


Living For You

by timetravelwithcamelotsdetective



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Podfic Welcome, World Travel, loosely based on PS I love you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 75,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetravelwithcamelotsdetective/pseuds/timetravelwithcamelotsdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin Emrys and Arthur Pendragon had been each other's worlds for years when tragedy strikes and Merlin dies from lung cancer. Left alone and grieving, Arthur feels like nothing will ever be the same again, no matter how hard he tries to make the world right again.<br/>Then he receives a letter. An impossible letter that can't be there: a letter from Merlin, detailing plans to send Arthur on the trip of a lifetime around the world Merlin once explored as a kid.<br/>As Arthur struggles through the heartbreak of losing everything dear to him, he learns things he didn't even realise he didn't know. There's scary amounts of responsibility, a lot of drinking, helping (and being helped by) people he had never even met before, as well as learning along the way that maybe life hadn't been as smooth as he thought it had, and most importantly, what it means to be himself.<br/>And soon it becomes clear that although this is the end of an era, it may just be the start of something wonderful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The World Collapses

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all of you who helped with this :) your support means a lot  
> So I am now planning on (and have started) rewriting this fic. After reading bits of it again I cringed at how badly edited it was and how rubbish some of the writing quality actually is. I'm going to be posting the updated version on my new account (I made a new one because I felt this was becoming cluttered so yeah) which can be found at Loonyfish on here and updates will be on Loonyfiish on livejournal. I would really appreciate it if the other one could be read - I don't want to take this version down but I know that the newer version will be of a much greater quality and should then be a better read! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_Arthur_

_I’m dead. I’m gone. Forever. It had to be said Arthur, because I know you, and I know you are in denial right now. I am never coming back. In a perfect world, I would never leave you, you would never have to face the world alone, yet now you’re going to have to go on without me. You may have this piece of paper, my words, etched here forever (unless you lose it or use it as a shopping list, or whatever, it could happen), but you won’t see me again, and I won’t be seeing you. BUT -now listen closely - you can NEVER use that as an excuse not to live, you will use it as an excuse TO live. You have to keep moving forward, moving on._

_This letter is one of 10 envelopes I have left for you. Don’t go looking for them; the next envelope will contain the remaining ones and I trust you not to just read them all at once. Each one has a set of instructions. You must promise to follow EVERY SINGLE ONE and only open the next letter when you have done them. Understand? Comprendo? Good. Because I have an army of willing spies, ready to force you into doing them :P actually it’s not so much of an army, more just Morgana but she is one scary woman when she wants to be (and don’t you know it!)._

_Now my love, your first set of instructions (you know how much I love my lists):_

  1. **_Get out of the house._** _Go running, meet up with Morgana, go to the pub with the guys, I don’t care! Just for heaven sake, get out of the house!_
  2. **_Take my shopping list off the fridge_** _**and throw it away, it is NOT a keep sake.** You can buy whatever the hell you like now. I know that you secretly hated all of the things that I have on it anyway so buy the things you like this time. _
  3. **_Buy something new for the house_** _. It can be anything you like, absolutely anything. A goldfish bowl (you could even get a goldfish, shock horror!), a new cushion, a statement of modern art or whatever the hell those framed squiggly lines are supposed to be; just make the house your own._



_Off you go, my love. And good luck :)_

_M x_

Arthur let out a breathy chuckle, tears streaming down his face, his hands shaking. His Merlin was gone forever. In the past five months he had watched the love of his life wither and die before his very eyes. He had held Merlin in those final moments; held him as his last breath shuddered through his small frame; he had held him as he lay lifeless, lost forever; held him tight in his arms, never wanting to let go.

The last five days had been pure hell. Every time the door opened, his head would snap up, his heart desperately hoping it had all just been a mistake; that it was Merlin walking through the door. He hadn’t eaten, he barely slept, barely drank, barely moved off their sofa (but it wasn’t _theirs_ anymore was it? Arthur thought to himself bitterly, nothing would ever be ‘theirs’ again). He was missing a limb. There was a gaping hole in his heart. He couldn’t move.

They had known it was coming but they had seen it too late. 5 months ago, Merlin had started complaining that his chest was tight. He hadn’t done anything about it - he was always too busy to find time to go the doctors, he was one of those people who just never stood still. 4 months ago, Merlin had collapsed, unable to breathe and had been rushed into hospital. 82 days ago (that awful day never left his mind) the doctor had told them in a quiet voice that Merlin had lung cancer. 81 days ago, Merlin had been admitted to hospital to start treatment. 59 days ago, they had been told the cancer was too advanced. Merlin was going to die.

The words screamed in his head, even now, the doctor’s patient voice a dagger, stabbing him repeatedly in his broken heart. 20 days ago, Merlin was only just able to breathe on his own. 15 days ago, he had to wear an oxygen mask all the time. 10 days ago, they had put that thing up his nose (Arthur had never been to sure of what it was called despite the fact they had told him pretty much every day) so he could breathe. 5 days ago, Merlin had started falling asleep after just five minutes, the physical activity too much for him. 4, 3, 2, 1, time was up. Merlin was dead.

He read the letter again. It was just so… _Merlin._ So full of fun and life. So happy and excited; ready to tackle whatever the world threw at him. Tears tumbled down his cheeks as he thought of Merlin. Of his salvation, his life, his one and only. His Merlin. No one would ever compare to him. Arthur’s whole body ached, his brain thumped against his skull and it hurt so much. He could almost see Merlin writing the letter; painstakingly deliberating over the words, smiling and crying at the same time as he remembered why he had to write the letter at all. But Merlin was right as usual, he did need to get out the house, staying inside was doing him no good at all.

A cold shower and a piece of toast later and Arthur was pounding the streets, music blaring in his ears. It felt amazing to be out of his own head for a while; focusing on the music, on the drum of his feet against the pavement. Yet there was nothing that could block out the ache in his chest; the visions of Merlin that ghosted round his mind. On every corner, Merlin was there. He saw the dorky grin, or the giant ears and mop of hair disappearing round the bend, but when he called out, Merlin wasn’t there.

The house was cold when he returned. Cold and empty. No smell of Merlin’s cooking wafting from the kitchen and filling the house; no music blaring from the radio, no Merlin joining in; no laughter. The desolation overwhelmed him. He was completely alone, no one to care. The tears came from nowhere, cascading down his face like a waterfall. His legs gave in beneath him, making him collapse against the door. Screaming. It was all he could do. Scream and scream and scream. Merlin was gone. Merlin was lost. He would never see him again.

He pulled Merlin’s letter out of his pocket; his hands still shaking, the tears still falling. One task down, two to go. The letter made him laugh. His Merlin was still here in a way, he was safe, guided by his love, his Merlin. _Task two_ he thought to himself.

He heaved himself up. Walking was hard; it felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He couldn’t change the house, he didn’t want to. If he started to move Merlin’s things, take down his lists, change their furniture, nothing would ever be the same. Without Merlin’s little quirky things, without Merlin’s choices in picking the sofa or which dining room table to get, the house would never be theirs again. By pulling down Merlin’s shopping list, he was pulling down his connection with Merlin. Without the list, Merlin would never have to come back for it (Arthur chuckled as he remembered the first time Merlin had gone shopping… without his list… and had returned 30 minutes later with no shopping. He couldn’t shop without his list), another link to him gone.

Standing in their kitchen, Arthur took in everything. The barren cupboards, the tidy work services, and the utensils exactly where they needed to be; it wasn’t right. It was cold, quiet, the ticking of the clock eerily loud. The kitchen had always been warm and welcoming, Merlin’s area. Arthur wasn’t a bad cook; he just didn’t need to when Merlin was around. Morgana had once joked that cooking was Merlin’s mistress - Arthur could always see why, Merlin’s food was pure porn.

They had a plain white fridge/freezer that had cost the earth. At least, it _had_ been plain. Merlin’s lists and love for all things magnetic covered the fridge in a whirlwind of colour; words were spelt out in silly letters, photos of them were in every available space. The mess made Arthur smile sadly. Arthur’s life had been so structured before Merlin. Everything had a time and a day; everything had a place or a box or little cupboard with little white sticky labels. Then there was Merlin. Merlin had been like a tornado of madness. He never put things away and his favourite thing to mock Arthur about was his labels (“Who the hell has labels for everything, Arthur. I don’t even think the queen has sticky labels in her wardrobe!”). Merlin had relaxed him, released some of the tension from his shoulders and allowed him the freedom his father never had.

He could see The List clearly. The very last list Merlin had added. He had been planning to go shopping the afternoon he had been admitted to hospital and the list had been long since forgotten. Until now. Gingerly, he walked towards the fridge, suddenly terrified. It was such a simple task, one of the mundane things that normal people would find terribly easy. But not Arthur. Not now. As Arthur’s hand touched the crinkled paper, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel. He could see Merlin’s panicked face as he hurried to scribble down the items before he forgot what he needed. Could see the glint in Merlin’s eye when he added strawberries and cream planning their meal for that evening. Could see the cheeky smile he wore as he placed the letter ‘L’ (“for ‘list’ obviously, Arthur!”) over it to hold it in place. It warmed his soul, seeing Merlin so clearly in his mind’s eye. Breathing deeply, he pulled the list down and held it tightly in his shaking hands. _Come on, Arthur. Bin it!_ He clicked the lid of the bin open, gripping the list close to his chest… he let go. The list floated down and landed softly on top of the pile of rubbish. He let the lid go. The list was gone.

Arthur plonked himself down on the sofa again. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there for, not thinking, not feeling; but it was dark when the phone rang. “Hey, Arthur,” a soft female voice came through the receiver. “Hey, 'Gana,” he replied quietly. This was the first human contact he had had since Merlin had died; it was weird hearing another human’s voice. “Do you fancy coming over?” She was avoiding the question, Arthur could tell.   “No, I’m not… I’m not ready yet, Morgana.” “Oh Arthur,” she whispered, “Do you want me to come over?” “Maybe tomorrow.” “Okay…" She trailed off, she knew that meant he didn't want to see her, "I love you Arthur. Remember that. I’m always here for you.” “Thanks.” he replied brokenly, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. “Bye, Arthur.” Arthur hung up. He couldn’t face another goodbye. Goodbyes hurt. Goodbyes were permanent. He never wanted to say goodbye to anyone ever again, that would mean losing them forever; losing them like he had lost Merlin.

He awoke the next morning. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa again. As he stretched out his arms above his head, he wondered for a moment where Merlin was, wonder whether he needed waking today. A moment later reality fell on him like a ton of bricks and he started to scream again. As the sun rose, Arthur cried and wept. He wept for his lost love. Wept for the life he could have known. Begged that Merlin could come back; who he was begging to, he didn’t know, he didn’t care.

He dressed in silence, lost in his own thoughts. There was so much he needed to sort out; people needed telling, Merlin’s clothes needed clearing out, appointments needed cancelling. All these things were final. They cleared Merlin not only out of his life, but out of the world forever; there would be no coming back. He spent a while stroking Merlin’s clothes, the soft fabric cool and loved; still smelling of Merlin, his sweet scent filling his nostrils, fainter now than it used to be, but still there and still the only smell he would ever need. It hurt and it healed. It proved Merlin had lived, proved he had been there, proved to Arthur he hadn’t made Merlin up.

Another cold shower. Another run. The same route as yesterday familiar and constant in his mind, unchanging. The thud of his feet on the pavement again soothed him, gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the ache in his chest. The winter air was cruel, the wind biting. There was no warmth in his heart; the love and tenderness Merlin’s smile radiated was lost forever.

When he returned home, he knew he had to do the third task. Again he read the letter, again it hurt. But task three was all that mattered now. Merlin knew Arthur hated buying stuff for the house, always allowing Merlin to choose (the only rule being “No pink, Arthur. Our house is going to be pink free. Okay?” Merlin had smiled at him and agreed; the house was pink free), yet here he was, faced with the arduous task of shopping. God Arthur hated shopping. _Ah well, I might as well get it over with._

IKEA. The sin of the earth in Arthur’s eyes. A big jumble of DIY furniture that no normal person could fit together without drilling some new holes themselves which really defeated the whole object of IKEA. _But_ it was only 10 minutes from the house and it had quite a big selection of stuff (most of which Arthur had no idea what it was meant for but oh well, it was a big selection) so he must be able to find something.

It was horrific. Arthur hadn’t realised how much time had passed since Merlin… died. A whole week… which meant _Hell, I came to IKEA on a Saturday!_ Arthur groaned inwardly, running his hands through his hair. He was sure this had to be the worst decision of his life. People were everywhere, throwing heaven knows what into their baskets; kids were screaming, parents were stressed; the shop floor was covered in cardboard boxes, plastic backs, bits of cable that someone was going to trip over soon; it was mayhem. He didn’t want to face this much disaster.  

All he needed was one item, yet even that was a struggle. What could he even get? He slipped a copy of the letter (the letter itself was tucked away at home, so as to not be damaged) out of his pocket and re-read task three. “Goldfish bowl… cushion… art…” he muttered to himself, completely lost as to what he was doing. “Cushion.” He decided firmly, cushions would be easy… surely. Wrong. Cushions, it seemed, came in all different sizes, shapes, colours and fabrics. No matter what cushion you needed, Arthur was sure it could be found here somewhere. _I need something to match the house… blue or red… soft and fluffy… snugly… so I can snuggle into it… shit I sound like a girl… I really hope no one is telepathic here… this really isn’t the time for this train of thought… I’m supposed to be choosing a cushion not thinking about telepathy… focus Arthur… THAT ONE THERE!_ Arthur snatched the red cushion tightly to his chest; glancing left and right to make sure no one had seen him. The soft fabric was warm and as he looked at it he gently traced the embroidered golden dragon with his finger. It was perfect. _Merlin would have liked it_ he thought suddenly, his eyes beginning to water, his hands shaking.   He sped to the checkout, not caring who he bumped into; he had to get out of there. The walls had started to close in, the stuffy air was suffocating him, he was drowning as he watched everyone else breathing. Outside the store he collapsed onto the nearest bench. The world was spinning beneath him, the ground waiting to swallow him up whole; he wanted Merlin back, he needed Merlin back. Without him his life meant nothing and no one could convince him otherwise.

It took him an hour before he could head home. He was light headed and dizzy for the rest of the day. He lay, curled up on the sofa, cradling the new cushion and his favourite picture of Merlin tightly to his chest, wrapped up in Merlin’s dressing gown. His world was empty. His heart was broken. His life wasn’t worth living. He couldn’t carry on.

Little did he know, Merlin was going to be helping him again very soon.


	2. The World Collapses

A week had passed in the same manner. Arthur fell asleep on the sofa every night; exhausted, alone, drowning in his misery. The house was cold and lifeless; the floor was tidy and clear; there might as well be no one living there. Each day Arthur would get off the sofa at 10, shower and shave; he would pick up the post when he heard it clatter against the mat in the hall, flick through it, discard it, it was usually just junk or bills anyway; then collapse back on the sofa, watching crap day time TV until he fell asleep again. He never ventured upstairs; never wandered into the room they had once called their bedroom because he just didn’t believe he had the right to anymore.

This carried on for two weeks, until the Tuesday morning three weeks and three days since Merlin had died – Arthur was keeping count.

Arthur heard the crash as mail hit the floor. It was louder than usual, more weight to it. Arthur frowned, he wasn’t expecting any post… unless… _don’t get your hopes up, Arthur, you’ll only be disappointed again_ he thought bitterly. Everyday he had waited, everyday he had hoped and wished the next letter was coming through the door; it was all he was living for.  He walked slowly towards the door, excited and afraid. His heart was pounding. As he approached the door he could see one large A4 red envelope buried underneath the rest of his post. _Could it be?_ In one smooth movement, he crouched down and picked up the pile of letters. Casting the others aside, he held the red one tightly. On the front in gold was ‘Arthur’ written in Merlin’s neat handwriting, the way he always used to write it. There was no address, just his name, delicately inscribed with love and care.

Arthur held the envelope tightly in his hands, unable to believe it was actually happening. He sat on the sofa, unblinking, staring intently at the impossible envelope he was holding. This was it. Nine more links to Merlin, the final time Merlin would ever speak and guide him. He took three deep breaths, concentrating on them and the silence of the room for a moment, before turning the envelope over in his hands and breaking the wax seal – smiling as he recognised the Pendragon seal Merlin had used, always focusing on the small details. He reached gently inside the envelope, the muscles in his hands flexing to grip the bundle of paper he felt inside it. In one swift movement he pulled out the precious package and laid it gently on his lap.

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he picked up the top letter. The 9 smaller envelopes were all in dark blue envelopes, with their numbers delicately written in silver ink that glistened in the morning light.

It took a few moments before Arthur could bring himself to open the letter. The quicker he opened them, the sooner he would lose his Merlin forever. He made himself a promise there and then; he was going to do whatever Merlin told him to do from now on. Whatever Merlin wanted him to do, it must be important. Admittedly, the last letter’s tasks hadn’t exactly been rocket science, but Merlin wasn’t stupid; Merlin was clever, Merlin must know what he is doing…. Surely? _Well… there’s only one way to find out._ Arthur thought to himself sadly as he tentatively opened envelope number one.

_Hey Arthur,_

_That first set of instructions was very, very simple, but that was kind of the point. I suppose you are probably wondering what the point actually was, so let me explain. Letter no.1 was to show you the world will always keep turning. That the basic things that were once regular occurrences are still regular occurrences to you and to everyone else. Just because the world stopped for me, just because our life together stopped, doesn’t mean everyone and everything else stopped too. Small mundane tasks, such as shopping, are part of a routine that I know you love. With your little labels and fixation on all things familiar, I know you needed something to kick you back into doing the things you want to do and to force you into doing the things you hate, just to keep you going and to show you that the basic things in life will always be the same, no matter what twists and turns you encounter. I knew you would stay inside and shut yourself away from the world; you’re a drama queen, don’t deny it (and if you are trying to deny it, remember when the Camelot Knights lost that match when you were ill? You didn’t speak for 3 days, Arthur! Don’t tell me that isn’t being dramatic!). I had to make you get the hell out of the house and into the world, back to your ridiculous running routine that – for any normal human being – is one of those things you start in new year as a new years resolution and give up after the first day. I knew you’d find it hard, that every little thing would bring back some memory or other, and really, who wouldn’t find it hard? I tried to make you meet up with Morgana or some of the guys, but I can just tell that it didn’t work, that you’ve shut yourself away and decided you will be alone forever. That’s not true. But I’ll get back to that later._

_Now, I guess it is time for me to get back to the actual point in this letter. But, my love, you have to have this back story before you start on this mad journey (you’ll understand soon enough) and you might need a cup of tea to help you digest it all. Got that sorted? Good good :) because you’re gonna need it babe!_

_When I was twelve, my parents decided to take me out of school and travel round the world. We travelled for six months and we went everywhere! We crossed three continents and met loads of fascinating, wonderful people who changed our lives forever. I was going to make this a surprise for your birthday when I had saved up enough money for both of us to go, but I suppose I wasn’t quick enough. Yet your tasks and instructions for the next couple of months (or years, depending on how much you enjoy yourself or lose yourself in the mad world that is out there for you to explore) is to travel the world. To re-meet the people I met, to make sure they are okay for me; to go on an adventure; and find out who you really are – because Uther never gave you the chance, and I could always sense your desire to be free._

_Here is the list of specific instructions. As the letters go on, the tasks will get more and more ridiculous. We did some very strange things on our travels; with my dad’s love for the out doors and my mum’s insane ability to befriend anyone we meet, you wouldn’t believe what we got up to! But you’re gonna do it anyway ;) because you love me too much not too ;) (I am kidding, Arthur. If you don’t want to go on this mad quest and you just want to start your life again, I really don’t mind… give the letters to Gwaine or someone. I’d just love you to do it for me. One last wish? Can you grant me that?). Anyway, back to the list, eh?_

  1. **_Head back to Camelot. Go back to see my mother_** _. She still lives in my childhood home, and my bedroom is still there for me if I ever wanted to come back to it. I’ll never need to use it now, but I asked mum if she’d keep it for you, keep it till you went there. What she doesn’t know, however, is what is hidden in my sock drawer ;) In my sock drawer there is a credit card. In that bank account are all my savings. I kept the card there because it is a) the safest place on earth and b) I could then never be tempted to use the money for other reasons._
  2. **_Go to Will_** _. He lives across the road from mum. He was my best friend as a kid. He’s going to think this is really strange but ask him this “What time did you and Merlin always go down to the river?” he will give you a time (hopefully in 24 hour clock otherwise you have to change it yourself). This number is the PIN number for the card. I would write it down, but if this letter gets intercepted I don’t want that money lost! I suppose I should really explain what we did at the river… it’s not as suggestive as it sounds! Trust me, Arthur! Me and Will!? That was never going to happen!! We would star-gaze. We both had dreams, BIG dreams. But Camelot was a small village in Western Wales, neither of us held much hope in achieving these dreams. And we both believed in wishing upon a star. By the river at that time you could see every star; you could see the vastness of the sky and (if you were lucky) you could see the magical mystery of a shooting star! And every time we saw one, we would both make a wish. My shooting star brought me to you. I can never thank it enough_
  3. **_Go back to my mother_** _. On the second shelf of the bookcase in the living room, there is a book about our travels; my fathers diary. I DON’T WANT YOU TO READ IT. I want you to take it off the shelf (she can’t reach it now she is in a wheelchair), give it to her and tell her you are off on an adventure. Tell her you’re following strict instructions set by her barmy son that are going to lead you round the world._
  4. **_Off you go_** _! The first big step in this adventure is to head to the airport and buy a ticket to Sydney. Yep, baby, you’re off to Australia! My parents had always dreamed of going to Australia, and wanted to go there before they ran out of money! So we went there first and hey presto, our journey had begun! And so will yours :)_



_There are a few rules though – this would be no fun otherwise ;)_

_i._ _You are to tell Morgana you are going and only Morgana! None of the lads, Morgana can tell them if they ask._

 _ii.   T_ _here will be no further contact with anyone. The only way to detach yourself from the world we used to know together, is to leave it behind completely. And I can see what you’re thinking in your very Arthur-like way ‘How can I detach myself if Merlin is leading me on some crazy adventure?’ Well mister, think about it this way. How often have I lead you on mad quests (a side from the one where we went to all the coffee shops in Paris to find the best coffee and then didn’t sleep for days)? This isn’t the life you knew, this is a whole new way of life_

 _iii._ _You are allowed one bag – that backpack we bought when we were going skiing; you know, the one where you can attach the sleeping blanket? And don’t forget the blanket; you’re going to need it! ;)_

_Now my love, the journey of a lifetime has truly begun. Off you go! Good luck!_

_M x_

 “Wow” Arthur said aloud to no one in particular, “I know you had some mad ideas, Merlin, but this one surely has to top them all!” He ran a hand through his hair, his brain working on overload. He, Arthur Pendragon, was somehow supposed to drop everything and go gallivanting round the world. Utter madness! There was no way he could get away with it. Uther hated him enough as it was just for marrying Merlin at all, and to leave his job without warning would send Uther off the rails completely! But there was a little voice in Arthur’s head _Go on Arthur, you can do it! Uther doesn’t control you. It’s what Merlin would have wanted after all…_

Arthur spent the whole day thinking it through. A run round the local park cleared his head and gave him a chance to think in peace. Peace and tranquillity were hard to come by when you had a nosey half sister who called every hour to check up on you (and even harder when you ignored the phone calls causing her to ring again), but the park was always quiet and was a place where no one bothered him because he was just some guy on a run. No one even cared if he spoke to animals either, which had become quite a habit of his in the last week – animals always gave him something to talk to without being judged or pitied. Merlin had given him such an opportunity, a once in a life time chance.  
There was so much to consider. His main worry was his father; if Uther Pendragon was angry at Arthur there was no way of knowing what he would do and what consequences it would have on Arthur’s life. His job kept him afloat; his job in the family business, the family business run by Uther. _Oh God_ ran round Arthur’s head more times than he ran round the park. Giving up on everything he knew certainly was one way of moving on from the life he had known with Merlin.  
It took 15 hours of solid thinking (this was quite a strain on Arthur who usually got home after an eight hour day and just give up on thinking completely) before Arthur finally reached a decision.  
“Morgana?”  
“Arthur!” Morgana was taken by complete surprise to actually receive a phone call from her brother after the number of times she had called him and he had ignored her “How are you doing… shit! I’m sorry, Arthur! Natural question to ask… I never meant to…  
“Morgana! It’s okay. I was just ringing to tell you… fuck, I don’t know how to tell you this… er okay. Just go with this okay, and no interrupting! Promise?”  
“Go on, Arthur…” Morgana replied sceptically, Arthur was never unsure of anything so this was going to be interesting, she just knew it. “But make it quick, I have a meeting to attend to”  
“Right… thanks Morgana. Basically, I have received a selection of envelopes, letters, whatever, from Merlin.”  
“Arthur… Merlin’s…” She whispered down the line, “Sweetheart, Merlin’s dead”  
Arthur’s voice caught in his throat as she said it, the words like daggers stabbing him repeatedly “I know…” he replied, his voice cracking as he tried his best to hold himself together, “Just… let me finish. I have received a group of letters from Merlin. He wrote them when he was in hospital. And he has a sort of task for me to complete. He has asked me to… travel the world for him, following a route he took when he was twelve and his barmy parents decided to take him out of school. And I’m going to do it”  
“Arthur…” her tone had changed dramatically, she was challenging him now. Morgana Pendragon was the most practical woman Arthur knew and this ‘adventure’ Arthur was planning had her alarm bells ringing, “Are you telling me you are just going to drop everything and follow a series of letters from Merlin and travel round the world”  
“Yes. I’m leaving tomorrow”  
“TOMORROW!? For fucks sake, Arthur! You can’t just go! You have commitments! You have friends! You have people who care about you here! Why the fuck do you feel the need to do this!?”  
“Because Merlin wanted it” he replied simply, “Merlin would have done the same for me if we had been the other way round”  
“Arthur…” she had that warning tone on again, but it didn’t faze Arthur.  
“I’m only telling you because that was one of the rules Merlin set. I was to tell you and only you. I was not to tell anyone else in order to give me time to break away from this life fully for a while. If anybody asks where I have gone can you tell them for me? Just tell them I’m travelling”  
“Does that include Uther?” he could hear the resentment in her voice. She hated Uther, hated him for rejecting Arthur because of his sexuality and hated him for dumping her mother in the gutter. They hadn’t spoken properly in 4 years. “You expect me to…”  
“I don’t expect you to tell him unless he asks. If he doesn’t ask, you say nothing. He already believes I’ve gone off the rails anyway, hopefully he’ll just assume he was correct”  
“You could just extend your leave, Arthur” she spat “Then I wouldn’t have to speak to that bastard at all”  
“I can’t Morgana. It’s in the rules. I am not defying the rules”  
“That’ll be a first” she added under her breath  
“Goodbye Morgana. I’m leaving for Wales at six tomorrow morning”  
“Arthur…”  
He hung up before she could add anything more.

6am the next morning and Arthur was up and ready to go. His old camping bag was slung over his shoulder; dressed in a pair of faded jeans and an old Spiderman t-shirt (it had been Merlin’s favourite) he had never felt more excited and ready for the adventure. Glancing round the house one last time, his heart wrenched. This was it. His first journey without his right-hand man, without the other side of his coin, without his Merlin. One last check of his bag; letters, check; blanket, check; clothes, check; what else could a man need? _This is it_ Arthur thought to himself _time to face the world again._

The train ride to Cardiff was long and boring. On any normal train ride, Arthur would be cracking jokes, putting Merlin off his book, listening to ridiculous 80’s music or watching kids TV shows on his iPod and sharing his headphones with Merlin. But normality had flipped, this was normality now. The loneliness wasn’t new, but it was had never felt this real, this permanent before.Two hours had never felt so long in his life. The country side flashed past him in a blur. A few weeks ago, he would have taken an interest in what they were passing _Merlin would have taken an interest_ was all he could think to himself. The only time he smiled was when he remembered the flight to Paris, where Merlin and he had made up a story (which had started off like a fairytale and ended up more like a horror/sci-fi mash up) and laughed pretty much all the way there. He had none of that this time, he didn’t even have the desire to think properly, let alone let his imagination run wild.

He could barely recall the rest of the journey, but an hour later he found himself standing in a small welsh village. He pulled his tatty, leather address book out of his jacket pocket and found Merlin’s old address scrawled on a random page in Merlin’s handwriting. A smile tugged at his lips as he looked at the message that would be there forever ‘don’t forget me, prat. Wales isn’t that far away’ And Arthur could actually see what he meant now, the journey hadn’t taken as long as he had expected.  
It didn’t take him long to find Merlin’s road. The whole village seemed to be made up of only five cobbled streets. He stood outside the cottage for a moment, taking in the place Merlin had once called home. The thatched cottage was small but seemed to have plenty of character; its tiny windows had frilly, white lace curtains covering them and there were a lot of flowers out the front. The one thing that struck Arthur was what Merlin had said about his mother being in a wheelchair, the cottage (as lovely and picturesque as it was) was far from suitable for a wheelchair. _If there is anything I can do to help her, I will_ he promised himself; hating the thought of Merlin’s mother struggling.

  
After checking his watch ( _ten o’clock isn’t that early is it?)_ , Arthur strode purposefully up to the door and gave it a resounding knock.  
A muffled call came from somewhere towards the back of the cottage “I’m coming, dear! Give me a second!” Arthur waited barely ten seconds before the cheerful red door swung open. “Arthur” the woman in front of him nodded at him, “Come on in love. Merlin told me you might be coming” he could see the sadness in her eyes before she turned a shuffled off down the hall but thought better than to say something; he was English, stiff upper lip is what he did. He followed slowly, suddenly nervous and unsure. He felt like he was intruding, as if he didn’t deserve to be there, that he shouldn’t be there at all. “Don’t be shy, love. Come on through” _she can read minds. That’s where Merlin got it from then, the ability to read me like a book_  
“Mrs Emrys…”  
“Hunith, please”  
Arthur smiled before continuing “Hunith, I’m sorry for coming uninvited it’s just…”  
“I know” she smiled sadly at him “I can hardly say you were uninvited when it was my loony son who sent you to me”  
“How did you…”  
“He mentioned it the week after he was admitted to hospital when he rang me. He didn’t tell me much though; I just assumed it was important”  
“Yeah…” Arthur replied absent-mindedly, thinking about the Welsh lilt in Hunith’s voice and how much stronger it was than Merlin’s “He has this plan… he’s sending me travelling round the world on the same route you did when he was twelve…”  
“Oh…” he barely heard the soft gasp but out of the corner of his eye he saw Hunith’s hands fly to her mouth, “You’re… Merlin always...”  
“He always wanted to go again” he replied quietly “But he never got the chance”  
“Oh, love” Hunith took his hand in hers, “He loved you very much. He never stopped talking about you even in your early days” her smile wasn’t quite sad, of course there was sadness but there was a great sense of pride radiating from her, pride and love “Thank you” she added after a moment, “Thank you for looking after Merlin for me, and thank you for being the best husband he could hope for”  
The words were soothing and it took Arthur a few minutes before he could reply, “I want to say the same thing, Hunith. Thank you for the amazing person who is your son. He was the best thing that ever happened to me, the light in my darkness. I would have been lost without him”  
“And he the same with you. You believed in him, you loved him, you completed him and that sort of love is worth its weight in gold”  
“I was the luckiest man in the world for him to even notice me, let alone love me the way he did”  
Hunith smiled at him, and all he could see in her was Merlin. She had the same soft features, the same warmth, the same big heart and that’s when he broke. For the past two days he had held himself together, remembered the good times, felt at peace; but being in Merlin’s childhood home, he couldn’t cope. Hunith’s arms encompassed his waist, “Don’t cry, love. Shh, it’s okay”  
Arthur pulled away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, trying his best to compose himself again, he hated people seeing him cry. “I’m sorry, Hunith. Can I… can I see Merlin’s old room?”  
Hunith frowned, but nodded “Up the stairs, 2 nd door on the right. I’m sorry if it’s a bit dusty, I haven’t been up there in a while and I told my cleaner not to go in there but it’s…”  
“Hunith” Arthur interrupted “It’s fine, honestly. I’ll be in and out of there in a jiffy, there’s just one thing Merlin asked me to take. Is that okay?”  
“If Merlin’s okay with it, I’m okay with it”

He gave her a weak thumbs up before turning from the kitchen and heading for the stairs. The whole house was cosy, full of nooks and crannies that were full of all sorts of bits and pieces. Photos covered the walls; photos of Merlin as a child, photos of Hunith and Merlin’s father on holiday, photos of the whole family all looking happy and content. Books were shoved into every available space, old ones with crinkled spines that had been well loved, new encyclopaedia’s were mixed in with old volumes; it made Arthur chuckle, the whole family seemed to love reading. After climbing the narrow stairs, Arthur stopped looking so hard. To Arthur, upstairs in anyone’s house was their private space that shouldn’t be intruded or examined.

He could tell which room was Merlin’s from a distance. The door may have been closed but it was covered in pictures, and on closer inspection Arthur discovered they were pictures of Dragons and other mythical beings. Gently pushing the door open, Arthur was overwhelmed with just how Merlin it was. Despite the fact it had been cleaned at some point since Merlin had left, there was a small layer of dust that had settled on Merlin’s things. The walls were a soft blue, covered in yet more pictures and paintings of mythical creatures. It wasn’t a large room, far from it, but he could tell it how much it would have suited Merlin. A red beanbag sat in the corner, a pile of books stacked next to it; and behind them was a small oak chest of draws. His heart was pounding in his chest. If the card was there, then the mad adventure was really truly happening, it wasn’t just a farce. He meandered his way round the books scattered on the floor and made his way over to the small drawers. _Merlin isn’t very organised, but his mum might have been. Socks, socks, top drawer for me… Merlin’s were in_ “The bottom drawer!” he cried out into the empty space before easing it open. It creaked a bit and was very stiff; it hadn’t been opened in a while. Trying his best not to disturb too many of Merlin’s things, Arthur rooted around until his hand stumbled across a paper envelope. With surprising delicacy, he pulled it out in one smooth movement. Merlin had been truthful it seemed; there was indeed a bank card in there. Arthur grinned, the adventure was actually happening, and it began with a visit to Will.  
He jogged back downstairs to find Hunith sitting in the kitchen, looking out across her garden.  
“Get what you needed?” she asked quietly, lost in thought  
“Yes thank you, Hunith” he replied, ever the gentleman, “Merlin has told me I need to visit Will, he said he lives opposite here, is that still the case?”  
“It is, dear. Will has been of great help in the last few weeks”  
Arthur nodded slowly, “He and Merlin were close then?”  
“Oh very. Will was always more headstrong though, Merlin used to just follow his lead, but I think he liked it that way, they certainly made a good team. Will was always Merlin’s rock, till he met you” she smiled sadly, “I was always afraid that I’d lost both of them when Merlin left to move in with you, that Will would stop visiting, but he never did, bless him”  
“I’m sorry, Hunith… I never meant to take Merlin away…”  
“Nonsense, Arthur!” a sudden amount of strength in her voice, “Merlin loved you, you loved him back and he was happy. Could I have asked for anything more? You didn’t take him away, you gave him a chance. With you he had the opportunity to become the man I knew he could be and for that, I will forever be in your debt”  
“I… I don’t know what to say…”  
“You don’t need to say anything. Now, whatever my son wants doing, off you go and do it!”  
“Thanks, Hunith. I should be back with in the hour” a kiss on the cheek for her and he was out the door and crossing the road.

Will’s cottage looked much the same as Merlin’s. The same quaint little features; tiny windows, creamy coloured bricks, the same thatched roof, but the door was indigo rather than the cheerful red. Arthur pressed on the doorbell, more nervous of talking to Will than he had been of talking to Hunith. He heard some mutterings coming from the house but didn’t have time to dwell on it as the door swung open.  
“Yeah?” a young male voice asked  
“I’m Arthur Pendragon, Merlin’s husband… can I come in for a minute?”  
The man in the doorway hesitated a moment before turning aside and allowing Arthur through. On the inside the cottage was very similar too; still quite narrow with the living room off to the right, the dining room to the left and a big airy kitchen at the end. Yet Arthur felt it lacked the same warmth and welcome Merlin’s had.  
“Will” the guy said briefly holding out his hand. Arthur obliged and took it, trying to smile but failing miserably.  
“Look…” Arthur started, feeling awkward “I don’t mean to intrude it’s just… before Merlin… died” the word made both of them flinch “He wrote a set of letters for me, detailing a load of tasks I have to complete” Will didn’t say anything; he just looked through the open door. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was listening but he carried on anyway, “And in order to complete them I need a number… What time did you and Merlin always go down to the river?” It seemed easier to just blurt it out rather than explain himself, words had never been Arthur’s strong point.  
Will looked at him incredulously, “How on earth do you know about… Merlin said he’d never tell a soul… not over his dead…” Will stopped abruptly, realising instantly what he was saying, “Oh shit, shit mate, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean”  
“Just answer the damn question, Will” Arthur growled, sudden anger pulsing through his veins.  
“Ten forty-five” _2245_ Arthur didn’t need to write the number down; words might not have been his thing, but numbers were (Merlin had often teased him that he knew pi to 40 decimal places).  
“Thanks, Will” he turned to leave but was stopped when he felt Will grab his wrist  
“I am sorry, Arthur. I still can’t believe… I hadn’t seen him in so long…”  
“I know, Will. I don’t believe it either” the anger that had been storming through his veins died down rapidly, “I don’t want to believe it either” and for the first time he looked Will in the eye, it was there he saw the desperate sorrow and the terrible sadness Will felt and his heart went out to him “Thanks, Will. You were the best friend Merlin ever had, thanks for looking after him”  
“You too, Arthur. Thanks for loving him, thanks for saving him”  
“Saving…”  
“He wasn’t happy here, Arthur. That’s why he went to find work in London. He never told Hunith, but he wasn’t, he had to get out of here; you gave him that”  
Arthur gave a small nod before turning away and walking out of the door.

 _Right,_ Arthur thought to himself _only one thing on this letter left to do and that’s to get the diary down for Hunith. Then I’m off! Off to Oz as it were!_  
He hurried back over to Merlin’s _I really should stop calling it Merlin’s place, it’s Hunith’s really, has been for a while_ and knocked on the door again. He had a slightly longer wait this time as he listened to Hunith knock something over on her way to the door.  
“Back so soon, Arthur?” she asked when she eased the door open  
“I didn’t have much to say really… I didn’t really know him; he didn’t really know me… I only had one questions”  
“It’s quite alright, dear, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I was just a bit surprised that’s all. I suppose you’ll be off then…” she trailed off, trying her best not to show him her disappointment  
“I’ve got one more thing to do…” he added slowly, grinning at her, “Something Merlin wanted me to do for you. Can I come in for a moment?”  
“Oh my! Why of course, would you like a cuppa? I just put the kettle on”  
“That would be lovely thank you”  
He followed her back through to the kitchen and she handed him a faded mug of tea.  
“So… Merlin wanted you to do something for you” Arthur chuckled, she reminded him so much of Merlin; either impatient or always straight to the point.  
“Do you have a bookshelf in your living room?”  
“Why… yes I do” she looked puzzled, “But what has that got to do with…” but she trailed off as Arthur slipped out the room. She started to follow him but he was back before she had the chance to really move anywhere.  
“Merlin wanted me to get this down for you” he handed her the battered leather book and gave her a shy smile.  
She gasped before taking the book slowly from his outstretched hands “Merlin still remembered…”  
“He never forgot anything, Hunith”  
She gave quiet laugh and ran her hands across the well worn cover, “Were you supposed to…”  
“I’m meant to give the book to you and then leave, I’m afraid. Merlin didn’t want to spoil the surprises he’s left in store for me, but he wanted you read it again”  
“I haven’t read it in so long” the welsh lilt in her voice had thickened, much like Merlin’s had when he began reminiscing  
“I know” he added softly  
“I never thought…”  
“I know”  
“Thank you, Arthur”  
“Any time, Hunith. Anything you need, I’ll help. Even if I can’t be here in person I will help you no matter what. If you need money, an extra pair of hands, someone to talk to, you call me okay?”  
She nodded gently, a small smile playing at her lips. He bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Hunith. And I’ll send you some postcards on the way?”  
“Oh, you’d do that?”  
“Of course. Thank you”  
“You too, Arthur. You too”

He stood in the road for a while, leaning against the cottage wall. _The airport, Sydney, freedom._  
And that’s just where he headed. Within six hours he was on the plane and on his way to start his biggest ever adventure ever.


	3. A Strange Request

Considering Arthur was the most impatient man on the planet, the plane journey to Sydney wasn’t too bad. He watched two terrible kids films, read the latest TOPGEAR magazine (Merlin had hated TOPGEAR on principle because of his obsession with protecting the environment but Arthur loved it) and managed to gain a blessed 6 hours sleep – all minor miracles after how unproductive he had been over the last few weeks. And he read the next letter.

It had been a struggle to bring himself to do it. Opening the second letter left eight more links to Merlin; the number was decreasing rapidly – too quickly for Arthur’s liking. The second envelope had a little sticker of a dragon on it ( _where the hell did he get a dragon sticker from!?_ Arthur had thought to himself _honestly, that man was probably able to pull bunnies from a hat if he needed to)_ that Arthur was sure was telling him to open it – of course he wouldn’t tell anyone that though, makes him sound like a girl – so he did.

_Hey Arthur,_

_I am assuming now that you are on a plane to Sydney, or that you are in Sydney in a nice hotel room, and I am hoping that you’re not still on that ghastly green sofa (you really need to get round to buying a new one at some point you know) just opening all the letters at once like the impatient (but vey lovable) prat that you are. Actually, I know you’ll do as you’re told; you’re father drilled that into you from a very young age, and that is the one thing I am slightly grateful for._

_I would like to start off by thanking you for doing that for mum. She never realised she was doing it, but she was always glancing at the book whenever I went over there (and I know that wasn’t very often but I did try!). The one thing I regret is that I never got to do the journey again, that I couldn’t make sure all our friends were okay. We wrote to them, you know. I didn’t write very often but my mum did; mum never forgot them. They gave her the hope and strength to carry on after she was diagnosed with MS (okay, so Will and I helped too), they reminded her of the times she had and the memories she shared with so many people._

_I also suppose you spoke to Will. Sorry if he was a bit… blunt. He always did have a tendency to be snarky with people he didn’t know very well. But he was always there for me, ever since we were little so it means a lot that you met (I imagined you two would meet at our wedding, but that ceremony was perfect with just the two of us, Morgana, and Gwaine, although I don’t think my mum ever got over the fact she didn’t get to plan our wedding)._

_I’m sorry if the last letter seemed in anyway selfish (although I guess it was very selfish asking you to do things for my mum and for me rather than for yourself but I’m sorry all the same). I just really wanted you to meet them. I’m sorry you never got to meet my mum when I was still around and the same with Will… I thought… I needed to… I didn’t like it there in Ealdor. I felt trapped and enclosed and I just needed to get out of there. Relief. That’s what I felt when I got the chance to move out. Not sadness, no sense of loss, just relief. I could be myself and I could explore the world again, instead of just being stuck in the tiniest village ever where most of the community is over 90! So I guess, my main point here is just to say THANK YOU ARTHUR FOR BEING THE ABSOLUTE BESTEST AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH and I am so sorry that I have to leave you; I never in my life thought I would have to._

_I babbling on a bit here and for that I apologise… again. So I guess it is time to start with the glorious purpose of this letter (for you are now burdened with a glorious purpose… or whatever the line is supposed to be, can’t quite remember)._

  1. _I start with a nice gentle task for you for I know you will be jet lagged and possibly (definitely) slightly irritable at this moment in time. You are going to see the opera ;) ‘The Magic Flute’ to be precise – Morgana’s (and Uther’s) favourite. You are going to see it in the royal opera house! I don’t actually have the ticket for you… you’re going to have to sort that out yourself I’m afraid. All I know is that it is on for the whole of this year (until January, so if these letters have failed to arrive on time and it is now February, I have to inform you that you will have to find something else to watch, sorry sweetheart). Once you have watched it, send a post-card to Morgana and tell her all about it in detail – I do know how you love to make her jealous and this will be a nice way to do so._
  2. _Get out of whatever hotel you’re staying in and hitchhike your way to the Marramarra National Park. My father had a love for the outdoors as I have told you before. The Marramarra National Park is a haven for local wildlife and local people. In the very heart of the Marramarra park is a small tribe of Aborigine people – the nicest group of people you will ever meet. Only the staff at the park (and my family) know they even live there. All actives take place in the rest of the park and the Imani tribe don’t tend to move around too much. From what I’ve been told, Gaius Hanning still works at the park. Ask him to take you to the tribe_
  3. _When you arrive at the tribe, look for Nimueh. She is the ‘head’ of the tribe since her husband died and tell her you know me and my mother. She should accept you with open arms if not give her the note that’s also in this envelope, it should convince her. I remember her saying “I wish you well on your journey but my people and I wish you did not have to leave. You are welcome back here forever, so are all those you hold dear” and those words never left me. Well… now I’m taking her up on the offer. In the middle of Marramarra there is no phone signal (so if you disobeyed the rules then HA! I’m one step ahead of you darling) so you won’t be able to contact anyone at all. You will be completely secluded, and I think that’s what you need. Because, Arthur, you are so used to all your routines and programmes that you lose yourself, you lose your personality. The time away will do you good, and you’ll help some lovely people along the way_
  4. _Marramarra has a program set up (in secret, not many people know of it which is a shame really because they are so lovely and kind and… oops sorry, went off again) that will ensure the survival of the Imani people BUT it needs people like you to help them. You are going to stay with the tribe for a month. You are to live with them, learn their customs and traditions, take part in their rituals and generally just immerse yourself in their culture. I can see your face now, Arthur, I can see every line of horror that has itched its way on to your smooth baby features. But believe me, when you meet the Imani tribe you will cling to them forever and never let go_
  5. _When you get there they will tell you what you need to do. I assume it will be things like building huts, removing pollution from the wildlife, searching out and destroying animal traps (honestly, poachers find their way in anyway they can. BE CAREFUL) and just generally helpful stuff._
  6. _When your tasks are complete, head back to Sydney. Find a hotel and open the next letter._



_And now I leave you. Be safe, be strong, be you._

_Love you forever_

_M x_

Arthur had known the tasks were going to get mad but even by Merlin’s standards this was extreme. A month, spent living with a tribe of people he had never even met. Hell, he only had two changes of clothes! Nuts, mental, absolutely barmy… but that was Merlin, Merlin all over. He was the sunshine that broke through even the stormiest clouds, the star that outshone the rest. And if Merlin could do this when he was twelve, Arthur could do it when he was twenty-six… maybe.

As the plane touched down, Arthur joined in with the cheers of his fellow passengers (although whether they were cheering at the impressive skill of the pilot or the fact that the gruelling journey was over, Arthur couldn’t really tell). He left the flight weary and rumpled. One thing was clear, Merlin was right again. Arthur was indeed jet-lagged and very irritable, he did not need the stress of idiots in queue for passport control and then – even worse – border control.

It took four hours and a lot of swearing before he finally made it out of the airport. His hair was fifty times messier after countless times of running his hands through it during lapses of impatience; his clothes felt grimier (Arthur shuddered at the thought of the sickening aeroplane and airport grime that must now be covering every inch of his body); he felt worn out and desperately in need of some rest.

The hotel he found was a reasonably nice one. For once, he didn’t go for the most expensive five-star one that he could find, as he still didn’t know his budget. The woman behind the desk (who had introduced herself as “Summer” and seemed far too happy for Arthur’s current mood) smiled at him warmly as she handed over the key to the single room he had asked for _probably wondering why a guy like me is after a single room for three nights in a place like Sydney, what a loner I must seem._ He was too drained to even think about smiling and turning up his charm. 

His sleep that night was fitful. The exhaustion didn’t seem to be enough to block out the images swimming through his mind. The visions of his father screaming at him the day he announced his engagement to Merlin, the look on Merlin’s face the day the doctor told him he was going to die, the sorrow in Will’s eyes; he could hear Morgana’s sobs when they informed her of Merlin’s fate, the loneliness in Hunith’s voice, the pity in mingled in the voices of all those who knew. Everything was piling up on him, surrounding him in thick black smoke he wasn’t sure he could escape. The loss of Merlin had been more than that. Death kills more than one person; one death can kill thousands.  
All day he had held himself together, all week he had kept himself composed; but in the early morning light of dawn in Sydney, Arthur Pendragon’s world came crashing in again once more. The single bed was too small, the room too empty, the bed sheets too still; Merlin’s entire essence which used to follow them everywhere was gone. There were no muttered swear words floating around the room as Merlin stubbed his toe on the way to the bathroom, no gentle snores as Merlin rolled over in his sleep, no subconscious snuggles as Merlin dreamed the night away. As the cool morning breeze rattled through the shutters, Arthur felt completely and utterly alone; and he lost all control.  He let himself scream, he let himself cry, he let himself fall apart because no one was watching, no one was around to see. His sobs echoed through the tiny room and only served to make the place more desolate.

The next morning, Arthur showered and dressed in one of his two changes of clothes, planning out his day in his mind. He structured it with things like runs and site seeing in order to keep his mind from drifting back to the thoughts of the night before. He watched himself in the mirror and was appalled at the black bags that had appeared under his eyes; the only sign of weakness his body portrayed.  
Summer was still working at reception as he went down for a run,  
“You still here?” _might as well make an effort after how rude I was to her yesterday_ he thought to himself, turning the charm up a few notches and pasting his most flattering smile onto his face.  
“You bet ya I am! Us Aussies work a lot longer than the Brits, mate.”  
He let out a snort, she honestly could not be more Australian if she tried, “You have no idea! We work very long hour’s thank you very much and hardly ever get any holiday!”  
She grinned at him, cheeky grin that was full of confidence and threw back her heard with laughter “I was only messin’ with ya. I know you Brits must do something otherwise we wouldn’t have the amazing TV shows you guys pull outta the bag,” she winked at him before continuing, “Anyway, shouldn’t you be heading for breakie?”  
Arthur chuckled, “Not that hungry,” he shrugged “Thought I might go for a jog, see if that helps.”  
“You go for it, but head west from here, the east is a bit dodge if you don’t know what you’re doing.”  
“Right… thanks.” He replied, baffled – no one in England was ever that helpful “Will you still be here when I get back?”  
“Probably, I’m here pretty much all the time.”  
He nodded his head and gave her a mock two fingered boy-scout salute before he turned on his heels and headed out.

The light outside made him squint, the sudden brightness mocking the darkness that shadowed his heart. The change in scenery for his run was refreshing but the heat was exhausting, even in shorts. Arthur had never realised how hot it would be during the Australian summer (he hadn’t even thought it was summer, his brain had been like mush so if it was winter in England it was winter everywhere). The streets seemed more welcoming here, brighter and friendlier; but the isolation was strange. He was living a life that no one around him had ever known before and that scared him, scared the shit out of him. He was in a place where he had not one person to turn to if he needed back up or support; he didn’t even know how much money he had! _That’s a thought, maybe I should check how much money my mad husband managed to save up_ and after a quick check in a cash point he found that _shit! He saved up £25 000!? Twenty-five grand! That man…_  
It was the scariest time in his life. Scarier than telling his father he was engaged to a guy, scarier than walking out of his childhood home for the last time, scarier than allowing himself to love Merlin for the first time. Yet, he didn’t want to change it. There was a kind of peace that comes with this sort of seclusion, a calming sense of serenity that seemed to follow him here. In this Sydney, the world was his and he could be anyone he wanted and do anything he wanted. And it was liberating.

The hotel was quiet when he returned, but Summer was still sitting behind the desk. Despite how lovely she was he didn’t particularly want to talk to her. There was something about her that was… familiar, in a way that was disconcerting because he’d only met her yesterday. She was happy and friendly even if you were snarky, she was bubbly and smiley, she was light and fresh, she was… _oh_ she was just like Merlin. She looked up at the soft gasp he had made and smiled softly at him,  
“You hungry yet? Breakie’s only served for another half an hour.”  
“No thanks,” he replied, returning the smile out of habit, not out of actual desire to be nice “I think I’ll be okay.”  
“Your loss,” she said, shrugging, “Our cook’s the best in town/”  
Letting out a small chuckle he began to head back to his room to wash his clothes and relax for a while – possibly by taking a nap but probably by sitting on his balcony in his pants, he was sure no one would mind too much. 

Looking out across the city he felt on top of the world. He’d never been able to feel infinity, but up there towering on top of the world, he knew what it was and what is was to be part of it. The wisps of clouds that danced above showed him stories of times gone by, the wind whispered secrets to him and the sun empowered him to look towards a brighter tomorrow rather than back to the darkness of the past. He could feel the promise of the changing seasons; feel the autumn coming and the summer beginning to die. Freedom like this was a blissful rarity and Arthur spent the next four hours relishing in it. The silence was broken at one o’clock with a knock at the door and a call of “Room service!” He hadn’t even noticed how much of the day had passed, and forgot that he was only in his pants when he replied with a cheery “Yeah come on in!” On later reflection, Arthur realised that the look of shock on that poor woman’s face would be the highlight of his day (with the blush that crept up her cheeks as she giggled nervously as he slipped some shorts on coming close second).

It was five o’clock by the time he left his room again, freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes. To his complete surprise, Summer was _still_ working at the reception desk and was still welcoming new guests with the same charm and smile as she had done the night before when he first arrived. As the latest guests moved off to look for their rooms he slid over to the desk. He briefly caught the wavering look of weariness in her eyes before she spotted him and turned back up the smile ( _looks like I’m not the only one who’s having to turn on the charm rather than it coming naturally then).  
_ “Long day?” He asked her with a sympathetic smile.  
“You could say that.” She paused for a moment and when he didn’t reply blurted out “Or you could call it an overpowering mother/boss who only trusts her hotel to be run by immediate family yet refuses to do any work herself, a bone idle sister who thinks that getting her hair done is more important than her family commitments and a father who is suffering from a mental… aw shit… I just told you everything didn’t I?”  
“Its fine, I know the feeling. Used to be employed by my work-mad father who hated me – still hopefully might be if he lets me have my job back when I get home , I have a half sister who seems to spend all her time getting her nails done and…” he trailed of.  
“And…?” she encouraged.  
He was silent for a moment as he collected himself. He had been about to say ‘And I just lost the most important person in my life and he’s now sending me on a trip to retrace the journey he took when he was twelve’ but he’d stopped himself for two reasons. 1) He didn’t want to sound too much like a girl and 2) the thought of losing Merlin had made his heart stop and had found himself without a voice to speak with. “I don’t think…” he continued, his voice hoarse “I don’t think I’m ready to tell you that just yet.”  
“Okay,” she said simply “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”  
“No, no! Honestly!” he countered, trying desperately to pull himself back together and maintain his macho persona “It’s my fault not yours… I mean I started the whole ‘you okay’ business and…”  
“Arthur, stop. Okay, it’s at this point we agree to disagree then move on right?”  
“Right.”  
“But if you ever want to talk… you don’t even have to talk about anything in particular, I’m always here for a chat… and I do really mean always!”  
He chuckled, his spirits lifting. “Do you know where I can buy tickets for the opera? “  
“Talk about a change in conversation topics! You Brits surely know how to keep a girl on her toes!” she retorted, her eyes glistening with mischief “But yeah. I can order them for you if you like. It’s easier if you order them online, I always think, but the only computer we have here is the old one out the back which mum uses for keeping the books up to date.”  
“That would be great thanks.”  
They stood in an awkward silence for a minute before Arthur remembered “I haven’t actually eaten today… I’m gonna go for dinner, that okay?”  
“Go for it. I’ll have the tickets booked when you get back. Tonight or tomorrow okay?”  
“That’s brilliant! Thank you so much!”  
“All part of the service.” She added, winking at him as sauntered away.  
He chuckled quietly to himself before heading off to the small dining room. There was only one other table of people sitting in the dining room when he entered; a young family. A mother, a father and two little boys. He smiled sadly. Merlin and he had thought about either adopting or finding a surrogate. _Merlin would have made a great dad_ he thought as he watched the father making his little boys giggle as their mother tried her very best to feed them. It hurt, it hurt like hell but the ache was beginning, ever so slowly, to subside and the ache wasn’t so overwhelming anymore. The mother looked up and noticed him watching; she smiled, rolled her eyes, shrugged then continued to try and feed the youngest boy (who couldn’t be more than two) whose little blonde head kept bobbing away to avoid the mush filled spoon. Arthur suppressed a laugh as the only waiter came over to take his order; he picked the tomato soup, he wasn’t really that hungry but he knew that eating nothing would make him feel even worse.

As he headed up to his room an hour later, a cheery voice called out to him from behind the reception desk.  
“Hey, Arthur! I gotcha tickets! Tomorrow night at 7.” She beamed at him.  
“Tickets?” he asked, confused.  
“Yeah I got you two… are you… oh,” her merry voices faded to a mere whisper “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”  
He didn't reply. She was right of course; normal blokes a) didn’t go to the opera and b) didn’t go to the opera by themselves. It took him a few minutes before he had formed the right words and frankly the silence was well beyond awkward, “My husband told me to see it… he’s… dead.”  
He heard a delicate gasp escape her lips but didn’t think anything of it. He had just dropped a rather big bombshell on her and she had the right to be very confused.  
“Shit, mate…” not looking him in the eye she fiddled with her pen underneath her desk “I shouldn’t… I can… I’m sorry…”  
“Don’t.” He retorted sharply.  
“Wha…”  
“Don’t apologise… it wasn’t your fault, you weren’t to know.” Suddenly weary. She didn’t need to be sorry, it had been a reasonable assumption to make and she had no right to apologise for Merlin’s… death. None of it was anyone’s fault (although that didn’t stop Arthur for completely blaming himself, anything that ever happened to Merlin he had automatically assumed was his fault for not looking after him properly) so he didn’t understand why people thought they had to apologise. To Arthur, people always wanted to fix what they never could. “Honestly, Summer. Just… don’t.”  
She nodded and as he walked away she couldn’t help but cry. He seemed such a gentle, loving man. No one deserved to lose a loved one, it wasn’t fair. _All this time, he’s been holding himself together. Always calm and collected. The poor, poor man. Poor, poor Arthur._

The day passed in the same manner as the day before. Summer seemed to want to avoid eye contact, and in his current mood that was perfectly okay for Arthur. He didn’t want her pity; pity was just horrible. People treated you so differently when you had lost someone and he hated it. He was glad room service only came every other day as it meant he could just lounge around wearing nothing all day (whilst desperately hoping you didn’t have to be dressed too smartly to go the opera, he only had one pair of chinos and despite his distress he did not want to look like an idiot).

Arthur had never been to the opera before. His father and Morgana had gone countless times but Arthur had never been, thinking it was for girls or men with a more acquired taste. How wrong he had been. ‘The Magic Flute’ was beautiful and Arthur had never felt so connected to a story in his life. The characters drew him in and captured his heart. The heart wrenching love of the characters and the complex love triangles that seemed to be appearing throughout enthralled him. Listening to the fantastic voices sing and harmonise in German enchanted him and gave him the challenge of keeping up with the storyline after learning how to speak German when he was younger.  
As he stepped back into the open air of the city after the performance reached its ending, he felt a new buzz surrounding him, a buzz he hadn’t felt for months. The city was pulsing beneath his feet; an electric current that flowed through the buildings, people, and cars.  It was exhilarating. There was so much he had to discover in the world and he’d never even realised it. But standing outside the Royal Opera House in a completely new country, he felt so alive, so free. Arthur felt like he was in a chic lit film, the man rediscovering himself after watching the opera – cliché or what!? For the first time in months, the smile on his face was genuine because he just didn’t need to force it. Before Merlin had died, Arthur would have found himself in a nightclub, busting moves on the dance floor with his completely un-coordinated husband on a night like this – he never had figured out why Merlin loved partying so much, especially since all he did was embarrass himself. But Arthur had matured now, a coffee in a posh coffee shop just down the road was just what he needed to round of a brilliant night (and he really didn’t want to stagger back at the hotel drunk, who knows what people might think then!). 

The next morning was a fine one. The clear blue skies promised another gorgeous day. Yet there was a sense of unease building in the pit of his stomach. Task one was complete. The easy one was done. Which just left the mad set of tasks remaining. Arthur sat on the edge of his bed and ran a hand through his hair. He had missed breakfast again after being too exhausted as jet lag and lack of sleep finally caught up with him. Merlin was mad. Arthur had never put a toe that far out of his daily routine, and although he was enjoying the new found sensation of freedom, Merlin’s tasks were beginning to feel a little too far out of his comfort zone.

As he headed down for lunch a quiet voice called out to him,  
“Arthur?”  
 _Summer..._ he thought to himself “Hey.” He turned and smiled at her.  
“Enjoy the opera?”  
“More than I thought I would actually.” He didn’t mean to sound rude, he just didn’t particularly want to talk right then, too much on his mind.  
“Look, Arthur. I didn’t mean to make things awkward…”  
“Hey! It’s okay, honest! I am sorry I haven’t spoken to you in a while and I’m sorry. I’ve been caught up in myself, I wasn’t thinking.”  
“I deserved it though, mate. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. Mum’s always telling me not to get too involved with the customers private lives and the whole customer is always right thing…”  
“Truthfully, Summer, I’m glad I told you.” A realisation dawning on him.  
“You are?”  
“I needed to say it. I needed to tell someone. I had never…” he trailed off. He wanted to say ‘accepted it – I know I won’t fully accept it for a while but I needed to make it real, to feel it in my heart. I only stopped talking to you because it hurt. I’d finally admitted that the man I love was never coming back and that… hurt…’ but he didn’t. He couldn’t open up that much yet, not even to Morgana.  
“Said it out loud?” she finished for him, smiling softly, “I get it. It’s easier to pretend it isn’t happening than accept it, yeah?”  
“Yeah…”  
“You should go to lunch.”  
“And you have a go at me for topic changing!” he countered, a grin back on his face “But I guess you’re right, after all I did miss breakfast.”  
“You missed breakie! What is wrong with you!? Hung over or somethin’?”  
“Aha you wish!! You will never see me rat arsed, girl!”  
“Shame! I thought you’d go on an all-nighter after the show and I’d have to heave you into bed.”  
“You’d like that then? Heaving me into bed?” _what the heck, let's flirt. She knows I’m gay anyway._  
He laughed, head thrown back, at the alarming shade of pink she turned before she replied “Get out of it, mate! Wouldn’t shag you if you paid me.”  
“Shagging now are we!? I thought it was just heaving me into bed, obviously I was misinformed!”  
She turned an even deeper shade of pink (actually she was pretty much red by now) “I did not mean…”  
He let out a low chuckle before winking and sauntering off to the dining hall, his spirits well and truly lifted.

His last day at the hotel passed without anything major happening. He happily sent a postcard to Morgana, singing the praises of the opera and telling her he wished she’d have been there to enjoy it with her (that of course was a complete lie, he just wanted to make her feel like she was really missing out). Dinner was much the same as lunch; the young couple from yesterday seemed to have gone and in a way this disappointed Arthur, he enjoyed watching them (although when he thought about it, that did sound a bit creepy) whilst picturing the future Merlin and he could have built together. Being in the hotel, the chats with Summer, the freedom of a new city, the comfort of lounging around in his boxers all day; all had made the ache in his chest more bearable. None of it made it go away – he knew the ache wouldn’t fade for a while – but it all helped, everything helped.  
He found himself packing that night without really thinking about it. He unpacked the new clothes he had bought that day from their bags (Merlin had never said he couldn’t buy new clothes, he just said he was only to take one bag) and was busily trying to stuff them into his back pack when he heard a soft knock at the door.  
“Come in!” he called out, barely thinking about who it might be. The door creaked open and a small voice said,  
“Hi, Arthur.”  
“Summer!”  
“You’re leaving then?” she sounded shy, almost… was that sadness?  
“Yeah… I’m heading to Marramarra.”  
“The National Park?”  
“That’s the one!” he replied more enthusiastic than he felt.  
“Why?”  
“Sorry?”  
“Why are you going to Marramarra? It’s not a very well known place.”  
Arthur stopped his packing and turned to Summer, who was still standing in the open door way and leaned back against the wall “You really want to know?”  
“Really, really.”  
Arthur sighed “My husband was… mad, insane, bonkers! And he thought that sending me on a trip round the world was a good idea.” She still looked puzzled but didn’t say anything, so he continued, “As he was… dying,” he flinched again, the word still painful “He wrote a series of letters detailing a trip that he took round the world when he was twelve.”  
Neither of them said anything for a while, both thinking thoughts along the same lines _that really is barmy._ Summer spoke up first “And you’re going through with it?”  
“To hell I am! At least… I’m going to try my hardest. He wanted me to… we’d have done anything for each other.”  
“I can tell,” she added gently, “He must have been very special.”  
“He was Merlin. That’s all I can really say, but I wouldn’t- couldn’t have asked for anything more. He was… my saviour.”  
She smiled “Good luck, Arthur. I can tell you’re gonna need it.”  
“Are you leaving?”  
“My shift has finally finished. My sister has decided to help out for the night to give me some time off and I’m going out with the girls. I just wanted to say… goodbye, I guess.”  
“Thanks, Summer.”  
“Anytime, Arthur… will you ever come back?” there was so much hope in her voice; Arthur made a decision there and then.  
“In a month’s time, possibly more, I’m leaving Marramarra and have to return to Sydney. I’ll come back then.”  
“Brilliant!” she cried, her trademark grin back on her face “See ya around, Arthur.”  
“Bye, Summer.”  
She turned and left. Arthur knew he’d made a friend for life in her, even if she didn’t realise it yet. 

As he headed out of the door, Arthur realised he had absolutely no idea where he was going. To be fair to himself, he had never been an avid explorer, but this was something completely different. In his childhood, ‘adventurous’ had been going to the park and not returning till after dark; now, ‘adventurous’ meant going into the outback and living with a tribe of Aborigine people of whom he had never met for at least a month. It was very close to being a nightmare.  
The obvious thing to do, Arthur thought, was to call a cab. This was easier said than done. Despite the fact that cabs were very frequent around Sydney, they all seemed to be full or otherwise engaged. It took 10 minutes before one was able to pull over and let him in. “The Marramarra National Park, please.” He asked the cab driver, who chortled to himself, laughing at something unbeknownst to Arthur, “Is something funny, sir?” he asked, always the gentleman.  
“Blimey, never been called sir before! What a nice lad you are!” Arthur barely had time to blush before the driver continued, “I was just laughin’ since no one really goes to Marramarra, not if you wanna come back out again.”  
“What on earth do you mean?”  
The driver chuckled again, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so British before, mate! Makes a nice change compared to some of the crooks I get travelling in here.”  
Arthur rolled his eyes, “Honestly, sir, I couldn’t care less. What were you saying about Marramarra?”  
“Just that… most that go in don’t come back out again. Some say it’s cursed, some say there’s magic there; I say it’s just a gorgeous place with something mysterious in the middle.”  
“You got that right…” Arthur muttered under his breath, _hopefully there isn’t anything too dangerous that Merlin didn’t warn me about.  
_ “Travelling on your own?”  
“Yep.” Arthur didn’t particularly feel like talking right now, and was surprised at how talkative people in Australia were compared to the people of Britain who gave everyone else dirty looks and held no conversations on principle, but the cab driver seemed completely oblivious to Arthur’s awkwardness.  
“Pretty boy like you travelling on your own? You’ve gotta be kidding!”  
The blush that had seeped from his cheeks came back in force at that one “I… I wouldn’t say… I’m not… I’m not alone as such, but I don’t particularly want to talk about it thank you.”  
“Alright, mate. Was only asking,” he shrugged whilst driving, “Never normally meet a nice, polite gent.”  
“Really? Sydney seems like a nice place to me.”  
“Oh it is, if you know where to go and stick to the beaten track. I cover the backstreets; I have the worst area of the lot. I’m the one who has to pick up the scoundrels that lurk in the darkness. They’re not pretty, not polite, not to be messed with I can tell ya.”  
“London’s just the same.”  
“Don’t have guns in London.”  
“You don’t have guns here do you?”  
“Not supposed to, the thugs have ‘erm anyway, they don’t have time for the law.”  
“Blimey, I best be careful.”  
“You’ll be fine in Marramarra, only the best go there.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He replied with a shy grin.  
He laughed, his hand moving to the radio, “You bet it is, mate. Mind if I turn it on? The journey’s gonna be about an hour and I can see you can’t be bothered with small talk.”  
Arthur huffed in amusement “I’m British, we specialise in small talk but hate using it; but go ahead, it’ll make it feel like a road trip.”  
“You don’t honestly believe the movies, do ya!?”  
“A guy can dream! If only your car were open topped…”  
“Dream on mate!” he laughed, turning the radio up, “Open the window if you must.”  
Arthur did so and lay back in his chair and began to watch this brand new world fly pass his eyes and felt at peace.

The National Park was… “Beautiful” Arthur was completely in awe. The cab driver had been right; Marramarra seemed to enchant you from the moment you stepped in the gate. The aura of mystery that flowed through the trees and animals, through the plants and rivers, now pulsed through his veins. It was exciting, thrilling, to be so close to nature, so close to where humans began.  
Pulling the letter out of his pocket he re-read the tasks. The first main task in Marramarra said ‘ _From what I’ve been told, Gaius Hanning still works at the park. Ask him to take you to the tribe’_ So that’s what he did.  
To his complete surprise, it didn’t take him long to find Gaius. Everyone seemed to know him and knew where he was at so and so time that day, so (feeling a bit like he was playing cat and mouse like he used to when he was five with Morgana) he tracked Gaius down.  
Gaius was chatting happily away to another staff member when Arthur approached him. He was laughing at a joke the lady had said, a full laugh that reached his eyes _Merlin laughed like that_ Arthur reminisced sadly, gulping back the tears that were threatening to escape his eyes. He waited for Gaius to finish speaking, which didn’t take long as the woman did seem to be very busy.  
“Gaius Hanning?” Arthur called out, jogging over to him  
“Depends whose asking.” Gaius replied, turning to face Arthur, menace in his voice but a childish glee in his aging eyes.  
“I’m Arthur Pendragon, pleasure to meet you.” _N_ _o harm in being polite_ he thought as he held out his hand.  
Gaius shook it somewhat reluctantly, his left eyebrow rising in an alarming fashion, “Name doesn’t ring a bell… have we ever met?”  
“Er… no. But you did meet my husband when he was young.”  
“Did I now… and who may he be?”  
“Merlin Pen… Emrys.”  
“Emrys? Hunith, Balinor and young Merlin? My… they were here well over ten years ago!”  
Arthur let out a small laugh, “They were indeed. And they’ve never forgotten you since.”  
“Really? I’ve never forgotten them either; they were a lovely family, friendly and very helpful too.”  
“That they were.”  
“So… why are you here then? Something has happened to them hasn’t it?”  
Arthur hung his head, “Hunith Emrys is now in a wheelchair, Balinor Emrys moved out to ‘find himself’ and Merlin…” He stopped.  
“And Merlin…?”  
He looked back up and straight into Gaius’s eyes. He could see already in his eyes that Gaius knew exactly what he was going to say “Merlin… died a few weeks ago.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, “He was a fine young man when I met him. Was he happy?”  
“Yeah… very.”  
“Good, I couldn’t bare for any of that family to have lived a bad life, especially after all they did for the people here.”  
“Things change, life happens, not everyone gets out alive… Hunith Emrys is in tatters.”  
Gaius stood watching him for a while; his grey hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, he battered hands sat in his pockets; he didn’t seem sad, he seemed to be thinking “You’ve got a wise head on your shoulders for one so young …” he seemed to not be going to continue, Arthur thought maybe he should say something but Gaius continued, “Is there a specific reason you had to find me?”  
Arthur blinked rapidly, the question had taken him completely by surprise “Erm… er… he said… you could take me to the…” he pulled the letter back out of his pocket and skimmed it till he found the name of the tribe he was looking for, “Imani people… the people he helped when he was here. He told me to look for you especially.”  
“Keep your voice down boy!” Gaius explained, waving his hands around in the air “That’s a secret! Merlin was never supposed to tell anybody!”  
“I wasn’t just anybody.”  
“No, I can tell… what did he want you to do with the people there?”  
“Help them. He mentioned a project that had been set up in order to support them… is it still in place?”  
“It is indeed… and Merlin wanted you to be part of the programme and help them?”  
Arthur nodded slowly, the fact of what he was doing suddenly dawning on him “Yeah… he did…”  
“I suppose the project needs all the help it can get. Most people in the know seem to steer clear of it, as if it’s cursed.”  
“Is it?” Panic flaring in the pit of his stomach.  
“Don’t be stupid. They are the nicest bunch of people I’ve ever worked with. They have different customs to us, they worship different gods, they wear different clothes; but that by no means makes them cursed. It’s a completely irrational thinking that the Imani tribe are cursed.”  
Arthur smiled “You sound very passionate about them.”  
“I am indeed. This park would be nothing without them. Despite the fact no one ever sees them, they keep the place clean and tidy, they care for the plants and the animals, they keep the natural environment here going. No one else does as good a job of it as they do.”  
“Am I allowed to meet them?”  
“If Merlin sent you then yes of course. Whether or not we’ll be able to persuade Nimueh, however, is another matter.”  
“I might be able to help you with that! I have a letter from Merlin to give to her. I have no idea what’s in it, but Merlin seems confident that it will persuade her.”  
Gaius looked at him intently for a while, “You keep changing what tense you use. Sometimes you talk of Merlin in the past tense, sometimes in the present… you’re either a very strange lad or there’s something you’re not telling me”  
Arthur blushed. He hadn’t realised he kept changing tenses “Merlin left me a set of letters and instructions to follow… that’s why I keep changing I think. In his letters he seems confident that the letter will persuade her to let me in.”  
“Very well. I’ll take you to them, but I will warn you now, if Nimueh says no then she means it. She will not go back on her word.”  
“Sounds a bit like my sister.” Arthur joked.  
“I’m serious, Arthur. She can be a piece of work if you’re not careful.”  
“Fair enough, sir.”  
“Good. If you come with me, I’ll pick up my truck and drive you out there.”

Arthur soon realised that Gaius liked to talk, even if the person he was talking to didn’t. He wanted to know more about Arthur before he let him loose in the tribe; he wanted to know about Merlin, how they met, what he got up to as he grew up; he wanted to know more about Hunith and Balinor, more than what he found out from her letters. He said that if he had the money he would go and visit Hunith, Arthur told him he would pay for it, Gaius thanked him and said he’d like that but then said no more on the matter; Arthur got the distinct feeling he had hurt Gaius’ pride by saying he would pay. Other than that, they got on very well. Gaius was pleased to see that Arthur was genuinely interested in the park and wasn’t there to promote his image (which wouldn’t surprise him after the amount of people he had met) and Arthur was glad Gaius believed him.

They drove for about fifteen minutes before Gaius had to pull over.  
“It’s easier if we go on foot. The Imani people don’t take too kindly to cars, even if they like the person in them.”  
“Fair enough, sir, lead the way.”  
Gaius lead the way through the greenery. There were a lot more trees in this area of the park, the grass was a lot longer; Arthur felt at one with nature. Somewhere in the distance he could here the trickle of running water, a river or stream of some kind. Birds called out to each other, swooping over head in a whirlwind of colour a noise. Entranced, Arthur kept walking, not paying attention of where they were going or how long they had been going for; he crashed straight into Gaius.  
“Careful, boy! You could have sent me flying!”  
“Sorry… so sorry…” Arthur mumbled, a blush tinting his cheeks.  
“It’s fine. Now, I wanted to stop you here. This is the last chance you get to turn away. The Imani people are fiercely loyal and don’t respect people who give up after a few days.”  
“I’m staying, for at least a month. No turning back, no regrets; I’m staying.”  
“I’m glad to hear it. I need dedicated people such as yourself working with the Imani people. They deserve the help of good people.”  
“Thank you… I think.”  
“Now, I must speak to Nimueh first. Wait here. Do not move.”  
Gaius walked off. Arthur stood toeing the ground waiting for him to return _I really hope they let me in. I have to do this. I can’t not do what Merlin asked. Please, please, please, please let me in._

Gaius reappeared half an hour later to find Arthur dozing beneath the shade of a tree.  
“Sorry I was so long.”  
Arthur jerked awake “No, no, not at all, not a problem.”  
“Nimueh wishes to see you. She wants to see the letter.”  
He nodded and began to walk towards the clearing.  
“Good luck, Arthur.”  
“You’re not coming?”  
“I’m confident she will let you stay and I have work that needs doing, people who need seeing. It is here that I leave you.”  
“What if I need you?”  
“Nimueh will make sure you get back to me, even if she doesn’t let you stay. You meant a lot to the Emrys’ so you should mean a lot to her. Good bye.”  
“Bye Gaius. I’ll see you around?”  
“I’ll see you out the other side.”

Arthur walked forward, his heart pounding. There was so much resting on this. He couldn’t fail, he couldn’t fail Merlin. As he stepped through the under-growth and through the curtain of trees, Arthur found himself in a small clearing. Little mud and wood huts stood clustered together in the shelter trees; hammocks were hung between several trees; a large campfire stood, currently unlit in the heat of the afternoon, ready for its tasks for the night to come.  A tall lady with dark hair and dark eyes stood behind the fire, her arms by her side, her face perfectly calm.  
“Arthur Pendragon.” A statement, made in a cold voice “Gaius has informed me you wish to stay here with my people, is that correct?”  
“Yes, Mam.” He replied, rudeness would get him nowhere, he knew that much.  
“He also told me that you are Merlin Emrys’ husband, is that also correct?”  
“Yes, Mam.”  
“You have a letter for me from Merlin?”  
“Er… yes I do…” he stuttered chucking his rucksack to the floor and rummaging through it till he found said letter. He handed it over to Nimueh who didn’t thank him. She skim read it, her emotionless eyes occasionally flicking up to look at Arthur before flitting back to the letter. Arthur felt like he was under scrutiny, he’d never felt so exposed.  
They stood in silence for five minutes, Arthur scuffing at the ground with his toe and Nimueh studying him and the letter at the same time.  
“Merlin, Hunith and Balinor were lovely people. You best do them justice.”  
“I can stay?” Arthur replied, gaping in disbelief.  
A soft smile appeared on Nimueh’s face, “I would never deny that family anything, and I know how you are feeling Arthur. I would have done anything for my late husband, even if it was completely mental.”  
“You can say completely mental again.” He muttered under his breath.  
“A bit out of your comfort zone, Arthur?”  
“Maybe a just a little… before this journey the furthest, place I had ever been to was Scotland, and that was only for two days.”  
“You have much to learn. And you have come to the right place. We will help you find what you are looking for.”  
“I’m not looking for…”  
“Everyone is searching for something, Arthur, whether they know what it is or not. Guinevere will show you around.”  
A young woman had appeared to the edge of the clearing. She had a gentle round face, dark eyes, and chocolate coloured hair that curled wildly in all manner of directions. “Hi, I’m Gwen!” She called out, walking slowly towards him. She was wearing a basic brown fabric dress; rope bracelets and necklaces hung off her, each dyed a different colour, but all of them the colour of the earth. “Nimueh is the only one who calls me by my full name around here, Guinevere is a bit of a mouthful really.”  
“I’m Arthur.” He gave her a show stopping smile, and holding out his well-manicured hand. The look of shock and awe that appeared on Gwen’s face was enough to warm Arthur all the way through.  
“Oh my…” she flustered, a blush creeping all the way up to the tips of her ears. She accepted his hand and went to shake it but Arthur raised it to his lips and kissed it in the most seductive way possible. Her blush increased ten fold and he gave a quiet chuckle.  
“You’re a cutie you are.”  
Gwen giggled “Why thank you. Now, would you like me to show you around?”  
“I would love you to.”  
She led him round. The area the tribe lived in was a lot bigger than Arthur had ever expected. Twenty huts were scattered round the woodland and Arthur was really impressed with her extensive knowledge of everything and everyone that lived there; just under twenty hammocks were hung between the trees, each one (Gwen told Arthur) was placed there by its owner for personal reasons, some of which have been explained to her some of which were still a complete mystery to everyone; and he had been introduced to most of the people by the time they reached the river.  
“This is the border. Our territory spreads no further.”  
“You have specific territory?”  
“We claim no other land. There is no specific space given to us but we have decreed that this land is ours. The river, however, belongs to no man. And that is one thing the whole park agrees on. The river belongs to nature, it always has done, it always will.”  
Arthur nodded. The river was so serene, there was such peace here.  
“Why are you here, Arthur? Lady Nimueh never said.”  
“My husband came here when he was twelve.”  
“Not… Merlin Emrys by any chance? Surely not…”  
“Yeah…” Arthur replied wistfully “Merlin was my husband.”  
“Was…” she didn’t want to ask, she didn’t want to know the answer if she was being truthful to herself.  
“Merlin died… just over a month ago… cancer.”  
“I’m so sorry…”  
“There’s no need to apologise, Gwen. No one needs to apologise. It was no ones fault; no one could have helped him…” Arthur sniffed, blinking rapidly in order to keep the tears at bay, “Not even the best doctors in England were able to save him, and believe me, they tried.”  
“Arthur…” She whispered, words not forming in her mouth “Merlin… Merlin loved it here.”  
“I know.” Arthur responded gently.  
“Do you think you can make your way back to the village on your own?”  
Arthur nodded, looking out across the river.  
“I’ll leave you to your thoughts… Merlin liked the rock over on the other side to sit on.”  
“Thank you, Guinevere.”  
She left him by the riverside.

_In my dreams you are back in my arms. In my dreams, I’m holding you once more. Merlin? Merlin can you hear me? I just want to tell you that I love you, that I will never stop loving you. Thank you for bringing me to this place; I can see why you loved it so. I wish you had told me about your dreams; I’d have helped you pay. I suppose it was just your stubborn way of proving yourself. I’m not usually one to think like this, I know I’m not. But maybe if I hope hard enough, maybe then you will hear me again. You brought light to my world; you gave me the chance to be free. All I ever wanted to do was spend my life with you, I just wanted to love you and hold you. In my dreams I still do so. I wrap my arms around you; I feel your heart beating, I feel the light breaths that leave your mouth scattering across my chest, I hear your gentle sighs as you float through dream world. But then I open my eyes, Merlin; my arms are empty and the air is cold and biting. I miss you more than you will ever realise. But I know you would have wanted me to keep living, and helping others to live a better and more fruitful life. I won’t let you down my love, I promise. I will do whatever it takes to help these people have a better future, they deserve it._

Arthur sat on the rock thinking this way for a while, he wasn’t sure how long, he didn’t keep track. _What’s the point? Time is useless here anyway. I have no schedule, no routine, not a single place I need to be._ The thoughts were prepared him for the tasks that lay ahead. Despite his vigour, despite his usual confidence, he was beginning to feel weaker. Merlin had been his stabilisers, holding him up and pushing him forward. Without him, Arthur was unsteady, like a baby dear just finding his feet. The weight of the world was pushing him down, the hope in Merlin’s letters pushing him forward, his families reluctance pushing him backwards, belief in himself pushing him weakly upwards; the strain was almost too much. But he knew which force was strongest, he knew which one he would follow forever; he believed in Merlin, so that was where he was going. He was heading forwards; maybe with just baby steps, but forwards none the less.

He headed back to the main clearing to find Gwen swinging in her hammock with her fiancé Lance (who Gwen had enthusiastically introduced earlier). As they looked up at him, Arthur could tell Gwen had been crying; her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair was slightly rumpled where Lance had stroked it in order to soothe her. They stared at him for what felt like years as he stood sheepishly near the edge.  
“Arthur,” Lancelot swung himself from the hammock “It’s good to meet you. I am… Merlin was such a lovely boy.”  
“You knew him too?” Disbelief was overwhelming him; Merlin had known so many people yet told Arthur about none of them, not even told him of their existence.  
“We became good friends during the time he was here. We talked a lot, we mucked around, he taught me how to have fun, I taught him how to be serious.”  
Arthur chuckled quietly, “Must have been a hard job for you, Merlin loved a good old-fashioned practical joke.”  
“Indeed he did. But here he learnt the importance of self discipline after… actually, I am sure you will find out in due course, it is not time to tell that particular story yet. But he learnt his lesson, a lesson you won’t even have to think about.”  
His short speech puzzled Arthur. So something had happened whilst Merlin had been here, something important, something that had taught him self discipline… Arthur wasn’t sure he even wanted to find out.  
“Is that why you wanted to come here? Because Merlin had?”  
“Sort of…” it was almost getting annoying have to explain it to people. It was such a crack pot story anyway, that no matter how many times he said it, it still sounded mental; but these people were different. They had known Merlin before, known what he was like, maybe the tale wouldn’t be so strange to them “He never told me about it if I’m perfectly honest. As he was… dying,” the pain surged, burning away in the pit of his stomach, still as strong as it had been “He wrote me some letters that were to send me on this trip. I didn’t even know he was writing them! But the week after he had died, one just fell through my letter box. Now… they’re all I’m living for.” Arthur stopped. He had never admitted that even to himself let alone to two total strangers. He tried to backtrack, mumbling something about dying wishes and mad husbands and what were you supposed to do with them but was muffled out as Gwen jumped on him.  
“It will get better, Arthur. I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her, glancing up at Lancelot who gave him a nod of approval, “I’m not saying it’s going to go away, because that would be a lie. You love him, you always will. And love like that doesn’t fade. But life carries on, Merlin knew that and Merlin loved that. No matter what happens, you have to carry on.”  
“I will, Gwen. But… I think I’m going to need your help.”  
“The Imani tribe will always help you, Arthur. No matter what you need.”  
He didn’t reply, he couldn’t find the words. He could already feel himself becoming attached to these people, a strong attachment he had only ever shared with a small number of people before. He just snuggled into Gwen’s neck; she smelt of the earth and of the flowers, of the freshness of the river, she made him remember that he was now free. 

The next few days were spent relaxing. He got to know the Imani people and soon became a firm friend of everyone. His favourite memory of those first days was meeting Kilgharrah; a wise old man who seemed to always speak in riddle and rhyme. Arthur had found it quite disconcerting the amount of stuff he knew about Arthur; he knew secrets that Arthur had barely confessed to himself. After a very polite but very brief conversation with him, Arthur had hurried out of the hut and promised himself that he wouldn’t return there unless it was absolutely necessary. It hadn’t taken long for Arthur to discover that the river was his favourite place. Even after just a few days he could understand what they meant. The river couldn’t belong to anyone, because it was never the same river that flowed through. It changed; it’s temperament changed, new water flowed gently through it with each passing moment, and it was home to so much more than just animals; to the Imani people (and now to Arthur) it held and carried a thousand secrets and whispered secrets to all those who chose to listen. It seemed to be the only place where he could fully come clean about his feelings. Out in the wilderness, there was no need for Arthur to bottle his emotions up, stiff upper lip wasn’t necessary. By the river he allowed himself to cry, allowed himself to talk aloud to Merlin even though he knew Merlin wasn’t listening. People would join him sometimes; sit by his side and comfort him, talk to him about all manner of things. He loved looking after the younger children who were so enthusiastic about everything, who reminded him of Merlin’s outlook on life and he was beginning to learn that remembering Merlin didn’t always have to be sad.

By the fifth day, Arthur felt like he truly belonged. They had given him his own hammock so he could look up to the stars at night (there was one star, just above his head as he lay there, that shone with such brightness and suck beauty, Arthur was sure it was Merlin looking down on him, encouraging him – he didn’t tell anyone though, that was one secret he really didn’t wish to share). He had helped the young children catch fish in the lake for dinner, helped them carry water back to the storage hut, listened to stories that had been handed down from father to son and mother to daughter as the whole community sat round the roaring fire under the moonlit sky. He felt happier here than he ever had before Merlin. There was no pressure from his father, no nagging from his sister, no routine and nowhere he needed to be.

Arthur awoke to a cool, clear morning a week after he had arrived in Marramarra with a face looming over him.  
“Lady Nimueh!” he cried, startled, he flipped out of his hammock landing on the floor with a thud.  
“You’re only staying three more weeks, Arthur.”  
“I may stay more! I probably will stay more especially if…”  
“You won’t Arthur. You will follow Merlin’s instructions and head back to Sydney. 1) Because you have never disobeyed rules or instructions before in your life and 2) because you are living for those letters. You said so to Guinevere and Lancelot. You will do what the letters tell you to do, then move onto the next one. I hope that one day you will come back to us, but for now I am merely accepting that we only have four weeks of your time.”  
Arthur hung his head in shame. He knew what she was saying was true, that really he was only living for the letters and for the little piece of Merlin they gave him. But it upset him in way that they had so little confidence in him.  
“And as we only have you four weeks, I want to make full use of those fine muscles and your extraordinary height, for I have not failed to notice how you are about a head above everyone of my people.”  
Arthur gave a low chuckle, looking up at Nimueh from his position on the floor (he hadn’t had the chance to get up yet!), peeking through his fringe which was far too long now, “What do you have in mind?”  
“A shrine, a temple, a building dedicated to the High Priestess; that is what I want you to build.”  
Arthur paused for a moment, “I don’t have to design it, do I? I’m honestly terrible at that sort of thing and I would not want to ruin the temple out of ignorance to…”  
“You will be given the plans this evening, as well as a team of willing volunteers. Anyone who does not co-operate with you will be severely punished. Enjoy your last day of idleness.” And with that she sashayed away (in a way that was so much like Morgana, Arthur was ~~slightly~~ very creeped out).  
Arthur continued to lie on the ground for another five minutes. It seemed to be that he didn’t even have to think about fulfilling Merlin’s requests of helping the community, which soothed him and made him panic in equal measure (you would think that that would balance out, but it definitely didn’t). Arthur was barely able to put up the little wooden shed that was in their garden back at home – Merlin had always wanted a little garden shed, saying it would make the garden more welcoming, but had then never used it. It was frightening to think that this little community trusted him to build something so important _You better not stuff this up Arthur, these people are depending on you!_ And with that he heaved himself to his feet and headed to the river to bathe.

Arthur had never been particularly fond of bathing, he much preferred a nice hot shower (or a cold one if he had a hangover); but bathing in the river was a completely different kettle of fish ( _I suppose it should be river of fish but that kind of ruins the saying a bit_  Arthur thought) and he loved it. He loved the feel of the water dancing beneath him, swimming amongst all the animals and feeling completely at one with nature. The only downside was to make sure he was never spotted (after one incident with one of the four year olds screaming as he heaved himself out of the water completely unclothed, then having to explain to the poor girls mother that “I’m not a molester… I was washing! She crept up on me!” Lady Nimueh had nearly killed him after that. He was only allowed to stay at all as he agreed on pain of death to make sure he put his pants on before he left the water “And I don’t care how wet you are.” Arthur had desperately tried to smother a giggle at that one).

That night, the Lady Nimueh presented the plans for the shrine to him around the campfire. Arthur was relieved to find that the design was just a slightly taller version of the huts they already had but the roof would have religious symbols painted onto it by Gwen and her sister.  
He was introduced to his team who were all fine, strapping lads who knew the forest like the back of their hand so would be of massive use to him. They all seemed willing to help in away they could; many of them seemed to want to start straight away but Arthur new that a tired team would fail and he was Arthur Pendragon, he didn’t know the meaning of the word failure (okay, he knew the definition but it sounded cooler in his head if he just said he didn’t know the meaning of it). He was ready to pour his heart and soul into the project and would not leave the tribe till it was completed.

 **Day 1 –** day one was pretty uneventful. There was a lot of wood cutting going on, material collecting, plans adjusting. Each person contributed in everyway they can and it filled Arthur with unforeseen confidence that the project was definitely going to work (and the occasional scratch and cut only damped the mood a little bit).   
 **Day 2 –** The foundations were dug. It was back breaking work that required the whole team to work to maximum. Each man knew that if he did not commit fully a) He would let the whole side down and b) Lady Nimueh would skin him - and it was mainly for that reason that no man let the team down.   
 **Day 7 -** the outer wall (one massive round one) was beginning to take shape. The round structure made it difficult to keep the whole thing from falling over but Arthur soon realised that a lot of patience was required in order to build these huts properly. Each hut was built using six layers which each took one hour to build but six hours to dry. Arthur wasn’t very good with patience so he busied himself being taught how to carve and such like by the villagers.   
 **Day 15 –** the wall was up! But the team’s spirits were low. Arthur tried to bring the joy back, but the labour was tiring and boring. None of the men were enjoying themselves. Arthur ordered the whole team to take two days off whilst Gwen and her sister finished the roofing tiles.  
 **Day 17 –** The team came back well refreshed and Arthur was relieved to see each and every one of them looking happy again. During the past two days, Arthur had built the structure on which the roof tiles would be set. He was given a lot of praise for his handy-work and suddenly began to take a pride in the project, a pride which he had never felt before, especially since his father would always put him down no matter what he did.   
 **Day 20 –** The last roof tile was being laid. The design was beautiful. The colours – greens, reds, browns, oranges – both blended in with the surrounding nature and stood out, glowing from it. All the community – the men, women and children – all showed up to watch Arthur settle the last tile in place. A thunderous cheer rose up as he turned, raising his arms in triumph. _Thank you, Merlin._ Arthur thought to himself as each person came and shook his hand and hugged him _I am so glad I did this for them, I'm just sad you weren't here to fulfil your dream with me._

On the 27th morning of his stay, Arthur awoke in his hammock aching all over to find Lady Nimueh watching over him again.  
“You really should stop doing that! I nearly fell out of my hammock again!”  
She let out a sharp cackle (another trait of hers that was alarming like Morgana) “I wanted to thank you, Arthur, for Kilgharrah has told me your time with us is ending.”  
“I was intending to stay…”  
“No you weren’t, Arthur. You have completed your tasks and I can see in your eyes that you wish to open the next letter. But I want a promise made now, Arthur”.  
“Er… okay, anything you like.”  
“Promise me you will return here when the whole journey is over. Make this your very last stop before returning home. I feel there are still lessons you need to learn, but you are not ready to learn them yet. Your time will come though, but first you need to find yourself again.”  
Arthur nodded slowly “Okay. I will come back, if you’ll have me.”  
“You are always welcome back here, Arthur. You always will be.”  
“Thank you.”  
“But one last message, before you make your farewells. The strength to move forward is a great strength indeed; to find it, you must look within yourself. An old proverb Kilgharrah enjoys preaching. Use it well.” And with a final flick of her hair, she stalked off into the forest.

Arthur stayed the full thirty days that Merlin had requested and had thoroughly enjoyed himself. In the last few days, Lancelot taught him how to hunt with a bow and arrow (which resulted in a rather nasty incident where Arthur nearly took Lancelot’s head off; they decided not to mention it to anyone though) which exhilarated Arthur and made him feel a new sense of power - pure honest strength that he didn't realise he posessed. He spent the evenings talking to Gwen about Merlin and the times they had shared together; and with her, Arthur found he could remember everything, found he could open up about his feelings, found he could remember Merlin with the ache in his chest merely simmering in his stomach and no longer a roaring flame.

The morning of his leaving dawned and an air of sorrow felt like it was encasing him. He bathed in the river for the last time, ate breakfast round the ashes of the fire, and then it was time for the goodbyes.  
Arthur still hated goodbyes. They still seemed permanent. So as the people of the Imani tribe gathered round him, Arthur never said goodbye; he merely said “See you soon”  
“You are coming back then?” Gwen had asked quietly.  
“Definitely. You’ll be seeing me in just over six months. The time will fly, I promise.”  
“Thanks, Arthur,” Lancelot had said “You’ve done a lot for us, we’ll forever be in your debt.”  
Arthur blushed and muttered something about it being nothing and that he had a lot of help but was cut off when the whole community jumped on him, crushing him the biggest bear hug of his life.  
Gaius appeared ten minutes later and they left the forest.  
“Good stay?” Gaius inquired, raising his eyebrow to Arthur like he had the first time they had met – which now seemed so long ago.  
“Fantastic.” Was Arthur’s only reply as they drove off into the sunset.

Arthur’s adventures were only just beginning. _  
  
_


	4. A continental adventure

It was midnight by the time Arthur reached his hotel again. He’d got lost twice whilst trying to re-find the place again (refusing to use taxis anymore as he felt like he was supposed to do things by himself now, that the Imani people had proved to him he could help himself). Eventually, he had given up and asked for directions and had discovered he was only one street away and had been for quite some time.  
Summer wasn’t working till the morning, which Arthur was happy about (despite how guilty it made him feel) as all he wanted to do was sleep. He wasn’t tired from the actual trip, more the travelling home. Hitch-hiking had been harder than he had expected. People were surprisingly unhelpful which saddened him; he had been hoping his charm and good looks would make it easier like they did back home, obviously not.  
He collapsed onto his bed and slept like a baby, still fully clothed but minus the shoes. It was a reasonably nice night’s sleep, but was nothing compared to sleeping under the stars. The feeling of being enclosed was returning; in the small hotel room it felt like the walls were closing in, the air was heavy and there was no sense of freedom. _I guess I’ll just have to get used to it, I don’t think I’ll be doing much more sleeping under the stars anymore… unless Merlin’s family just enjoyed sleeping outside which - knowing them - was always possible._  

When he awoke the next morning, he shoved his dirty clothes in the washer and pulled out the fourth letter. This one was decorated with a phoenix, hand drawn by the looks at it. It warmed Arthur’s heart to see how much time and effort Merlin had put into making the letters nice for him. A fleeting feeling of happiness swept through him and the thought of Merlin’s gentle hands caressing the page and delicately drawing the magnificent bird. But the feeling was gone when Arthur realised he was opening the letter. He hadn’t felt himself doing it, his hands just naturally doing what you normally do with an envelope. It was at this point that Arthur remembered just what this letter meant. It meant two main things in his mind 1) That there weren’t many letters left and therefore the links with Merlin were getting fewer and 2) Merlin had left him. There was anger boiling in the pit of his stomach _Why? Why am I angry? I was never angry before, I can never be angry with Merlin_ but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling. It wasn’t full out anger, more like a quiet sense of disappointment that Merlin had failed him. Arthur could understand sadness, could understand loss, but he couldn’t understand anger, couldn’t understand disappointment. Merlin had never been a disappointment, so why was he feeling it now?  
Shaking the feeling away as much as possible, Arthur slid the letter out of its envelope. 

_Arthur,_

_Welcome back from Imani! I hope you enjoyed yourself, I don’t want you to regret choosing to follow the quest (ehe, I like that… quest. Makes it sound like a proper medieval story! My knight in shining armour on his quest for me). I can already bet that you’re going to be heading back there one day, whether that is in the near future, a couple of years time or when you’re old and grey. They latch on to your heart, those people. They latch on and never let go, no matter how hard you try to throw them off._   
_I was going to apologise for not warning you about Kilgharrah. He can be slightly… strange. You’ve probably heard at least one proverb and a dozen secrets of your own coming out of his exceptionally old mouth. Sorry about that, but he wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t thought you needed to hear them; Kilgharrah does nothing just for the sake of it, he always has a reason._   
_I guess you can see from the Imani tribe why I love being outside. I had my own hammock and I absolutely loved sleeping there. Sleeping under the moonlit sky was just amazing. That’s why I always suggested picnics because just being under the vastness of the sky made me feel free. Sometimes I wish we’d stayed in Australia; they offered us the chance and my parents seriously considered it, but in the end they realised how much they would be giving up and that it wasn’t just them they had to think about, they had to think about my future too. And then I remember that if I had stayed there, then I would never have met you and I can’t even think what my life would have been like without you._

_Now, before I get on to the next tasks, there are some thing’s that I want to say._   
_I told you in the first letter that you were to have no contact with any of your friends and then sealed the envelope before I had a chance to change my mind. I’ve come to the conclusion that that was a terrible idea. If you want to go back to a normal life after this (which you may not, I’m sure the Imani tribe would happily let you live with them if you wanted to, they are lovely like that), then you have to stay in contact with everyone. But I don’t mean telling you every single thing you’re feeling (I don’t think the lads would take that very well anyway, although I don’t think Morgana would mind too much granting I have the sense that she will take the piss out of you for it eventually), I just mean telling them that you’re okay. Tell them what you’re up to, what countries you’re in, what tasks your mad husband has you doing. Make them see that they don’t have to tread round you just because I’m gone, that you still are the same strong Arthur I know and love. You don’t like people seeing you weak and I’ve realised now that by running away you are showing weakness. I think they need to be told by you that you aren’t running away, merely doing as you’re told. Contact them? Go for it, Arthur. A postcard will do :)_   
_As I am writing this letter, we have known about the cancer for just under a month. I can see it in your eyes every time you walk in here, you’re blaming yourself. STOP. Please. Don’t blame yourself; this was not your fault. You can’t protect me this time, just this once accept that you can’t do anything to help me. There was nothing anyone could have done, you know that, god you made them try! If it was anyone’s fault then it was my own for not going to the doctor sooner. I’d prefer you to hate me, to blame me, than for your to blame yourself. You’re just beating yourself up. Control the controllables and everything else will sort itself out eventually. Isn’t that what you always tell me when I panic? Take control over what you can change, take control over the things you have control over. There is no use crying over something you can’t change. You have no control over my stupid, stupid body. My body failed me… my lungs failed me. You **DID NOT FAIL ME**. Not in anyway. You saved me; I’ve told you that before, I’m going to keep telling you. So please, stop blaming yourself. I should tell you myself but I’m too scared. I don’t want to die, Arthur. I don’t want to admit that I was going to die. If I tell you to stop blaming yourself then I am admitting that I’m going to and Arthur… I don’t want to die, oh hell…. I just… I love you Arthur. None of this was your fault. Please Arthur, please believe me._

Arthur had to stop reading. He couldn’t take it. The letter had ink smudges all over it where tears had fallen from Merlin’s cheeks and onto the paper. His hands were shaking and tears were beginning to fall down his own cheeks. He had never realised he was being that obvious, obvious to Merlin that he blamed himself; he thought he had hidden it well, apparently not. Apparently, Merlin had known him far too well to see through his defences. But what really upset Arthur was that Merlin was blaming himself. Telling Arthur to blame him. It scared Arthur that he had already started to blame him. He was still struggling to clear the disappointment that was floating through him. Merlin was not to blame. 

_I guess… I guess it is time for me to return to the tasks. It’s easier to think about that thinking about... my future anyway.  
Your stay in Australia has been short, I know. Yet hopefully it has been short but sweet. As now you are on your way away from Australia (my parents couldn’t really afford to stay there any longer, which was a source of great disappointment to me at the time)._

  1. _Head back to the airport and buy a ticket to Thailand; specifically, a ticket to Bangkok. Now, I’m going to warn you here and I want you to take heed. Please be careful. Thailand is an absolutely stunning place, a paradise on Earth, BUT (as with any city) there are the bad places. Bangkok is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever been to, but mum and dad always set very strict rules about where we were allowed to go. There are dangerous people in Bangkok, who use people like us to their advantage. Try and stay to the beaten track as much as possible, this is not the time to go adventuring alone into an unknown city._
  2. _Find a small hotel in a decent(ish) area of town, or as decent as you can find. Just a small one, I don’t know how far the funds are going to stretch if I’m perfectly honest._
  3. _Party for the next few days as if your life depends on it. Let go, drink till you can’t see straight, dance till your feet are going to drop off, then keep going. You will never be able to party anywhere like you can in Bangkok. And you can’t party any where else with out being judged. So let yourself go for a night or two._
  4. _Get over the hangover ;) good luck with that, the drinks in Thailand are lethal. I suggest maybe a day at a spa, never did anyone any harm ;) and there are many charming Thai ladies who I am sure will lap up the opportunity to give you a massage ;)_
  5. _Find a beach, somewhere far away from Bangkok and just rest there. There is nothing better than lying on a beach, the crystal clear ocean lapping at your toes, the gorgeous summer sun making the air simmer with heat, and not having to do anything._
  6. _Move on to your next destination_



_Okay, so my parents and I never visited Thailand, and we never danced a night or two away (despite my dads desire to – I’m not even kidding, he wanted to dance and dance and dance, in a club. Mum said no without hesitation). But I want you to have some fun! When we travelled the world, we ended up seeing the sights (all I can remember is hours of shear boredom yet I’m hoping you will find it slightly more interesting when you get there) or helping people like the Imani tribe. There was a very nice thing we did in Spain (not trying to sound too big headed but it was, it was a very lovely thing to do and I’m hoping you will get to do the same) and things we did in other places, but we did it all to help other people. This letter is about helping yourself – maybe getting a raging hangover isn’t the best way of helping yourself but the point still stands. Sometimes, we’ve got to be selfish (and in a way that’s why I am making you do all of these things, because I am selfish and I know you will do anything for me without faltering). So get out there and do something for yourself! Party, dance, relax. In that order!_

_Have fun, sweetheart!_

_M x_

The tears were still falling as Arthur flopped back onto his bed. A mingle of tears of sadness and tears of laughter. The tears of sadness came from Merlin’s confession. Obviously, Arthur had known that Merlin hadn’t wanted to die. No one wanted to die. Especially not someone who had so much to live for; someone with so many more things they wanted to do. But the tears of laughter came from Merlin’s insane ideas. Merlin wanted him to party like his life depended on it. Arthur hadn’t partied like that since he was a teenager, and he thought the mornings of raging hangovers were long since passed. He knew he would never pass up the opportunity to get a massaged from some nice Thai women ( _the cheeky bastard_ Arthur thought to himself chuckling _cheeky git knew I would never say no to a day in a spa)_ but partying all night? And for as much as a day as possible? _For crying out loud, Merlin, I know I’m only twenty-six but that really doesn’t mean I am young enough to get away with that much partying._ He could imagine Merlin sitting in his hospital bed (it wasn’t a pleasant image, thinking about Merlin like that always made Arthur shudder a little) giggling slightly as he wiped away his tears, thinking about all the evil little things he had in store for his completely unsuspecting husband. 

He got up and showered properly for the first time in over a month. He found it didn’t feel quite as nice as it used to. It used to clear his head, warm his heart, and refresh him. Now, the small cubicle felt too small, too enclosed; the water was too loud, too hot; the place too clean, too perfect. It took him by complete surprise that he wanted to be anywhere but inside. Despite his love for running, Arthur had never been an outdoorsy person – which when you think about it was understandable; he had grown up in the city with a father who owned several massive companies, so had seen more boardrooms than most people would in a lifetime. Bathing in the river every day for the last month had been liberating; the freedom it had given him had been amazing and beyond anything he had ever done before. The water had been cool and refreshing, waking him up with a nice light feeling; instead of boiling water from the fiery depths of hell burning him into action. 

He had his first (and sadly, his last) ever breakfast at the hotel. Summer had been right; the breakfast was delicious (although he would never admit so to her, she seemed to have the same kind of adorable smugness about her that slightly irritated Arthur). He chatted with Summer for a while. They talked about his trip, and he was really glad that someone was taking a genuine interest in his life. People back at home couldn’t care less about what he was up to yet here someone (almost a complete stranger) was showing actual curiosity as to what he had done for the past month. Not only was she interested, she was impressed; and that pleased Arthur no end. He tried desperately not to notice the sad look in her face but failed miserably. They said their farewells with a great big bear hug  
“Thanks Summer”  
“You look after yourself, Arthur”  
“Don’t worry, I will. You too yeah?”  
“Sure thing, Arthur. And although you don’t like it, I am sorry for your loss. No one as lovely as you deserves to lose someone so important to them”  
Arthur smiled sadly at her, “Thanks, Summer. I… it’s honestly… thanks”  
“You’ll be okay, yeah?”  
“Eventually, Summer, maybe one day”  
“Bye then, Arthur. Stay in touch?” the hopefulness in her voice would be adorable if Arthur wasn’t trying not to cry. He didn’t want to leave Summer, he didn’t want her to leave him… like Merlin had left him. Too many goodbyes were killing him inside. He clung onto her just a little too long, too long for two people who had only known each other just over a month. She handed him her mobile number and gave him a small kiss on the cheek “You’re brave, Arthur. But you don’t always have to be brave. If you ever need to fall apart, no one will find you weak. Call me if you need a chat. Now piss off before I start to cry!”  
Arthur gave her a little chuckle and a small grin, returning the peck on her cheek. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise!”  
And with that, he swept out the foyer with as much excitement as he could muster. 

The journey to the airport was tiring. He met another chatty taxi driver who also couldn’t understand the fact that Arthur didn’t want to talk. It was nice in a way that people were so friendly and talkative but it was kind of tiring. They also seemed to change subjects a lot; it was hard to keep up with! Admittedly, some of his jokes were quite entertaining but usually they were kid’s jokes, or jokes you needed to know something about Australian politics in order to understand.  
By the time he got to the airport, Arthur was exceptionally drained. He paid the driver quickly, stuffing what was probably too much money into the drivers hand by the massive smile he got in return

Flights to Thailand we surprisingly easy to get hold of. He was a bit worried when the lady kept insisting that he buy a return ticket, but eventually manage to assure her (his most flattering smile definitely helped) that he wasn’t going to be coming back to Oz for a while yet. 

The aeroplane journey was much the same as the one to Australia; long and arduous. He didn’t have the distraction of a new letter, no TOPGEAR magazines, nothing. He stared out the window for at least half the time; dreaming about how different his life could be right now, how it should be right now. He should have Merlin by his side, sharing his iPod and making obscene jokes that really shouldn’t be funny but somehow are. But Merlin wasn’t here. He never will be again. Arthur refused to cry, the woman in the seat next to him kept giving him enough strange looks as it was but somehow managed to keep her mouth shut; he didn’t want her asking questions about why he was crying. It was hard, being on a plane by himself. He’d done it before of course, but Merlin had always been waiting at the other end, and that had made the whole journey more bearable. Yet now he had nothing, no one was waiting or him; all that lay in store was a raging hangover and another letter from his husband. But did Arthur mind? He still had Merlin; through the letters, through is guidance, in his heart. He wasn’t completely alone just yet, Merlin would never leave him immediately, he never had. 

Touch down in Thailand was a bit of surprise. He found himself being shaken awake by the lady next to him. She gave him a soft smile and a sympathetic pat on the hand, but said nothing. Arthur was grateful. The woman had been kind enough not to make things too awkward, but had enough compassion in her soft old eyes to show Arthur that someone cared about him.

It was night time and Bangkok seemed to be alive with colour and light streaming out in all directions. It was… disorientating. It should have been beautiful, stunning, magnificent; but it just wasn’t. Arthur was too tired, too hot, too sweaty. He just wanted to go home. _No. I can’t do that, not to Merlin. Merlin wanted this, this was what he wanted as he was… fucking dying… and I’m not giving up on it now. I can’t, I just can’t._ instead, he found himself a small hotel to stay in and settled down at a computer in the hotels small computer suit.  
He opened up his emails to find himself inundated with hundreds of emails. Wincing, he opened one from Uther.

**From: Uther Pendragon**   
**To: Arthur Pendragon**   
**Subject: Your future**

**Arthur,**   
**If you do not return home before the month is out, you have lost your job here. I understand what you are going through but this sort of behaviour is unacceptable. Morgana informs me that you are probably somewhere on the other side of the world and I request that you contact me immediately. If necessary, I will arrange a flight home for you; if you require me to do so please email me as soon as possible. I want to make it clear that I am completely disgusted that you thought you could just leave without informing me of what you where you were going and what you were going to be doing. Do not talk to any press whilst on your travels. They have already had the delight of speculating what has happened to you and I do not need to have to deal with the fall out of you pulling any more ridiculous stunts.**   
**Uther Pendragon (CEO of Camelot Co.)**

It wasn’t as bad as he had been expecting but after checking the date and realising it had been sent just before he had started helping at Marramarra meaning that his job was gone. 

**From: Arthur Pendragon**   
**To: Uther Pendragon**   
**Subject: RE: Your future**

**Father,**   
**I am sorry for not replying sooner. I am not entirely sure what details of my trip Morgana has told you about so I don’t know what I really need to explain so I am not going to explain anything.**   
**All I have to say to you father, is stuff your stupid job. I don’t want it anymore. I am perfectly happy travelling the world and I am thoroughly enjoying myself. I have worked harder (and for better causes) in the last two months than I ever did whilst working for you and I have finally learned that I am more than just your son. I am my own person and I will continue to be so.**   
**I will see you ~~if~~ when I return father.**   
**Hope you are well.**   
**Arthur**

He felt strangely exhilarated as he clicked **SEND**. Never before had he dared to speak to his father like that. But he knew that it was the only way to feel good about himself, tell his father to shove his prehistoric ideas up his arse and move on.  
The next (and last) email he opened was one from Morgana.

**From: Morgana LeFey**   
**To: Arthur Pendragon**   
**Subject: Arthur?**

**Hey Arthur,**   
**I take it you’re still on your husband’s mad journey for you. Now, sweetheart, I understand that you might not read this until you get home but I thought you should know that we’re worried about you. I understand that Uther has pretty much completely disinherited you now because you didn’t return home but I have it in the knowledge that he will take you back. Gwaine has told me that the guy who has been brought in to replace you is a complete arse who can’t do anything. Over six months of him and Gwaine reckons you will be welcomed back with open arms.**   
**I also just wanted to know if you’re okay. I’m worried about you, Arthur. It’s not like you to just take off, even if it was Merlin who told you to. You’ve just been through one of the worst times of your life and now you’re all alone somewhere in the world where no one knows where you are or even if you are safe. I’m not telling you to come home; I just want to know if you’re alright. And so do the rest of the lads. They were (and don’t tell them I told you this) really upset when you just took off and stop talking to them. We all miss you, Arthur. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?**   
**Cya, Arthur**   
**Love Morgana**   
**x**

Shit. Arthur hadn’t realised what his escapades would be doing to his friends. He missed Morgana like hell but thought that she would understand why he had to do what he was doing. 

**From: Arthur Pendragon  
To: Morgana LeFey**

**I am so sorry Morgana. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch and I am sorry that I have abandoned you. I know you’re probably bored of hearing this, and I promise that it isn’t just an excuse but the actual truth and I will show you when I get home, but in the first letter Merlin told me not to contact anyone. Then he changed his mind (as he does) and told me I can contact you.**   
**I’ve been having a brilliant time! Merlin sent me into a National Park in Australia to help with some people there. I was entrusted to build them a temple to one of their Goddesses and lo and behold, I did it! I got to sleep under the stars, bathe in a river and then help the people by day! It was fantastic!**   
**Right now, I have just arrived in Thailand and tomorrow I am going to spend my whole day partying… God help me! Not my usual idea of fun, but I hear that Thailand is the partying capital of the world so I should give it a go whilst I am here.**   
**I don’t know where else I will be going, although Merlin did mention something about helping someone in Spain.**   
**I promise I will stay in touch as much as possible.**   
**Oh, and btw, I told father to shove his job up his arse :D**   
**Love Arthur**   
**x**

And with that he shut down the computer and turned in for the night. He felt much better after messaging Morgana and it was a giant weight off his chest to know that he no longer had to worry about his job.  
The bed he slept in was rather uncomfortable, the sheets were very scratchy and the pillow might as well have been made of wood, yet Arthur decided it wouldn’t matter if he got drunk enough.

When he awoke the next morning, he already felt like shit. The combination of jet lag and a terrible night’s sleep was not a good one and he decided that getting drunk could wait till after lunch.  
He didn’t do anything all day. He tried to sleep again on his bed but decided that the floor was ten times more comfortable and ended up kipping there instead. It did little to make him feel happier but was a tiny bit better than having no sleep at all.

It was nine o’clock in the evening by the time Arthur pulled himself off the floor, out the door and to the nearest possible night club.

Arthur had never felt so claustrophobic. There were people everywhere; getting to the actual bar was almost impossible and when he reached it he nearly put his arms down in a line of bright green shots that had been lined up.   
“Just take one” a dark haired man said to him “It’s freebies night” The guy was smiling at him, he didn’t look drunk so Arthur went for it. It was disgusting. It burned down the back of his throat and sent goosebumps tingling down his arms but it was surprisingly refreshing. He reached for another, then another, then another; four became five, five became ten, and by number fifteen Arthur was completely hammered.   
He spent nearly four hours dancing and dancing till his feet hurt. Grinding up against anyone who would let him, he didn’t realise quite how terribly he was dancing, and really he was too drunk to care anyway. It was past one o’clock in the morning when he staggered back over to the bar.   
“Now… sir” his slurred to the man next to him, who somehow didn’t seem quite so sloshed “You seem… like a nice enough fellow” he saw the guys eyebrows raise in slight confusion but it didn’t comprehend in his mind “What you say… if I were to… eugh… would you… blow job” the guys eyes pretty much burst out of their sockets at this.  
“What, with me!?” the young boy, couldn’t have been older than 18 though Arthur really could not tell by this point.  
“You come back here with me, yeah? And I’ll give you a service you’ll never forget”  
And taking the boy by the hand he lead him back to the toilets. It was cramped and dark and stuffy, and the man was looking terrified.  
“Don’t worry,” Arthur slurred, “I’ll take good care of you”  
And so he unzipped the man’s jeans, pulling them down to around his knees and knelt down beside him. Licking one long streak along the back of the man’s cock, Arthur felt weird. He couldn’t realise why though so he carried on. Taking the head of the man’s (he didn’t even know his name) cock in his mouth he began to suck, pulling at it hard and fast, his tongue darting all over it, inhaling the precome that was dripping from its tip. The boy’s head was thrown back in pleasure and it wasn’t long before he came, Arthur swallowing every ounce of come before zipping the guys jeans back up.   
Then everything went black.  
  
The morning sun rose in the east, shining in through Arthur’s small hotel room window and straight into his eyes, waking him up. Arthur groaned, and rolled over finding a piece of paper on his pillow. There was a mobile number and a small note written on it  
 **** _Last night was fun. If you care to do it again just give me a call. Mordred  
_ Arthur ran to the toilet and vomited solidly for ten minutes. This could not be happening. Nowhere hurt, nowhere seemed too sensitive (although if he was perfectly honest with himself, the pounding in his head and the ache in his liver were doing a good enough job to mask any other aches and pains he might have), but after the amount he drank last night, anything could have happened.  
He didn’t remember much. He remembered a row of green shots, couldn’t remember how many he had but he reckoned it was quite a few and he remembered a dark haired man who had told him the drinks were free… but other than that, nothing. Surely, if anything had happened then he would remember it… But Arthur wasn’t feeling well enough to trust his senses. After rummaging around his bag for a while, Arthur found two paracetemol tablets, downed them in one, and went back to bed. He’d think about Mordred later… much later.

By the time much later came, it was dark again. Night life in Bangkok was already alive and glittering in all its glory. The pain in Arthur’s head had died down to a gentle throbbing and the pain in his liver was pretty much gone. The guilt, however, was still there. He was positive he hadn’t done anything with Mordred. There was always a chance that he had been a bit stupid – somewhere deep in the back of his mind where he was now refusing to look, Arthur was sure he remembered putting his hand down a guy’s trousers and there had been something familiar yet at the same time completely alien to the taste in his mouth when he had awoken but that was about it. He wasn’t going to ring the number and find out. It took a while, but eventually he managed to convince himself that all the elusive Mordred meant was that they had a great time drinking and he would love to do it again sometime.  
Arthur ran. Despite convincing himself, he still had a big pool of guilt at the bottom of his belly. So he ran, hopped on the first train then boat he could get to one of the paradise islands. 

Koh Phi Phi Don was almost too good to be true. But it was true. Arthur Pendragon was standing on one of its many perfect beaches. The crystal clear blue sea lapped gently against the shore as the golden sand sat soft and warm beneath his bare toes. He had checked into a hotel on the seafront and had managed to get a room with a perfect sea view (at no extra cost!).   
The journey had really taken its toll on Arthur’s hungover state. His head had started pounding again during the train ride as hundreds of people had closed in around him, squashing him against a wall as he tried his best to stay standing. The hot air had made him feel disgusting and he knew he definitely now needed the shower. But it wasn’t just that. The journey had allowed him time to think. Think about what he _may_ have done with Mordred, how he _may_ have betrayed Merlin, what Mordred had implied, _how_ he had seemed willing enough to do it again. It made him feel sick.  
Collapsing onto the sand, Arthur cried. Tears of anguish, guilt, pain, sorrow and loss falling down his face; dripping onto the sand and leaving trails down his flushed cheeks.  It was hard enough that he had lost Merlin, but now there was the overriding sense of guilt that was settling in his stomach. He cried till there was nothing left, till he was completely empty inside. All he wanted was for Merlin to hold him, to soothe him, tell him that everything would be okay. But Merlin was gone and he would never be beside Arthur again. Arthur was on the other side of the world from anyone he knew, he’d run away and used Merlin’s letters as an excuse, he had never felt so alone. There was a grief he couldn’t describe; there was a pain he could find no words for; a longing and an ache in his chest which hurt too much to be able to explain. He wanted to switch places with Merlin. He hated the fact that _he_ got to live on, the one who didn’t appreciate his life or love his job or have ambitions he wanted to achieve. Merlin had had all of those hopes and dreams cruelly taken from him and it was Arthur who was left to carry on and live a life he didn’t even want. It was all so unfair. Everything was so dark, so worthless without his shining star. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time he turned in for the night. He was shattered (both in the tired sense and in the emotionally drained sense) and just wanted to sleep and sleep until all his worries went away; yet nothing was ever that easy. He had a restless night’s sleep; all he could think about were the possible events of the night before, what may have occurred, how he had let himself and (more importantly) Merlin down. He could hear his father’s scathing voice floating around his mind _‘Useless…stupid… immature… disappointment… let down… disown…’_ and it only made him cry more. There was only one thing he knew to do in a time like this; and without even thinking about time differences, he picked up the hotel phone and called Morgana.  
“Morgana?” he whispered down the phone as it was answered  
“Who is this?” came her curt reply, typical Morgana  
“It’s me… Arthur”  
There was a moment of silence and Arthur heard a pen being put down and someone being shooed out the room before “My god… Arthur! Are you… what’s the matter? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come and find you? Why are you crying, Arthur? Arthur Pendragon, answer me at once! If you think for one…”  
“Morg… Morgana! If you give me a moment then… shit Morgana, I’ve really fucked up”  
He heard a small gasp from Morgana but she quickly covered it up with a small cough “Arthur…”  
“I don’t know what happened…” he began sobbing again, tears falling once more down his delicate cheeks “One of the things… from Merlin… was to come here and… get seriously fucking pissed… an-and I did… an-and then I woke in the morning… and shit… there was a note… fro-from a guy… called Mordred… saying… Last night was fun, call me if you want to do it ag-again and I don-don’t know what I did or what I didn’t do… and I just feel so stupid… and I’ve betrayed…”  
“STOP right there, Arthur! Don’t you dare say that you have betrayed Merlin because I know you. And I know you haven’t.”  
“But…”  
“For one: Merlin Emrys knew full well you were a lightweight and could not hold your drink for love nor money so would know that you were probably going to do things you would regret later and secondly: and it pains me to say this, but Merlin… Merlin is gone” She tried not to wince (but failed miserably) as Arthur’s sobs increased at that “So you… you can’t let him down anymore…”  
“I’m… I’m still married to him…”  
“You haven’t let him down, Arthur,” she soothed, cooing gently down the phone “You don’t even know what that guy meant with his note. You said yourself, sweetheart listen, that you didn’t and still don’t know what you did with him. You probably just got very, very drunk and ended up dancing – and I mean dancing Arthur not _dancing_ if you please – so stop beating yourself up. You wouldn’t, even in a drunken state, do anything so stupid; you haven’t been brought up that way” she stopped talking for a moment, listening as Arthur’s sobs slowly began to subside before she continued “Now, I don’t know where you are right now but I’m sure it’s somewhere brilliant. So tell me; what is the view like from your window?” and that’s how they talked for nearly an hour, Morgana taking Arthur’s mind off what had happened and made him focus instead on what he was going to do and what he had done in Australia. She found herself laughing with him at anecdotes about the people he had met, and missing him more than she ever had done before. Just before she said goodbye she added “It’s been… great to hear from you, Arthur. You will be okay now, won’t you?” he said he didn’t know but that he hoped so and he hung up without answering her “Call me soon, yeah?” feeling much better than he had before, eventually falling into a deep sleep.

In the morning he pulled out the letter again, ignored the drinking challenge and moved on to the spa and lazy day time instead. After a nice breakfast, he booked himself in for a spa at midday and went down to the beach. It was so peaceful, so tranquil; there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be. He thought fleetingly about how perfect the scene would be if Merlin was there, arms wrapped round each other, laughing and relaxing together. But he knew he had to stop thinking about everything for a while otherwise there was no way of him ever unwinding fully again.  
The massage was all he had ever wanted and more. He found himself completely calm, right down to the core. There was no reason for him to think too hard about anything and it was strange… Arthur had always had to think all the time, be the perfect son or the perfect brother. And it was there, laying on a beach on a small Thai island that Arthur realised what – or rather who – had always been the one to accept him for who he was. Merlin. Always Merlin.

At midnight three days later, Arthur knew it was time to move on from Thailand; that he had rather outstayed his welcome. He opened the next letter.


	5. French Delights

_Hello again Arthur_

_I suppose right now there are several states you might be in. Might still be drunk and opening this in your drunken state (if so **STOP READING NOW** ), you might be well rested and relaxed, or (and I am going to assume it is this one because you are a complete lightweight my love) you are still slightly hungover and regretting something you can’t even remember doing. And rule 27 of Merlin’s imaginary list of general rules about life is: if you can’t remember doing something don’t worry about it. And really, what harm could you have done? Slept with a guy? Well, and here’s the thing, it’s not exactly like you’re cheating on me. You never know, I might be cheating on you with Jesus up in heaven ;) (I’m kidding of course; the beard would be a bit of a turn off). _

Arthur laughed in spite of himself. The image of Merlin cheating on him with Jesus was too ridiculous to even contemplate, but thankfully it cleared some of the guilt that was still slowly eating away at him. 

_I suppose you must think I am strange. Knowing that you will probably end up doing something you regret and maybe even end up sleeping with a guy who isn’t me yet still making you do it anyway. And I suppose you are right. But I guess I know that you are going to move on from me eventually anyhow, and maybe I should just accept that and be happy for you, happy that you will find love and happiness. And that is what is keeping me going, knowing that one day you will be happy again, and that someone else will have the pleasure of seeing you smile just for them._

_I want to tell you something my mother told me when I first met you and what she repeated to me again when I said I thought I was falling in love with you. I didn’t understand what she said at first, but now I do. She said “Merlin, some people say that falling in love with someone is like flying through the skies filled with happiness and love. But falling and flying aren’t the same. Falling hurts. There is no gentle or easy landing like there is with flying, no sense of freedom. Falling in love happens to so many people, but not many can act on it and any others choose not to because that’s easier. But sometimes you just have to have a bit of faith in where your heart is pulling you. Maybe if people understood the importance of being happy, and the sense of happiness that came with being so in love, then they would embrace their fears and jump. Because although falling can hurt, you know that if you love someone they will always be there to pick you back up again. I can see in your eyes that you are falling, hard and fast, head first into this. Embrace it my sweet, embrace it and cling on for dear life, because that chance may never come round again”_   
_And I think I followed her advice pretty well. I fell quite spectacularly in love with you. Our little corner of the world was everything to me; everything I had ever dreamed of as a boy and everything I had ever been told about as a child. We had our own fairytale. It took me many, many years to understand what she said. It took… it took the end of our story to make me see what she meant._   
_Falling for you was easy because you were everything I ever wanted; but it hurt so much because I… I always believed I wasn’t good enough. When we first got together it was like a dream. You were the blonde beauty that everyone wanted a piece of and I was just a neek sitting alone in the corner just dreaming about you. But you chose me. Not the sexy girls who chased you through the streets, not the fit boys ~~like Gwaine~~ who were just too gorgeous and when you stood with them the whole female population (along with the gay part of the male population) dropped dead because the vision was just too much. No. You didn’t choose them. Embracing everything about us was something harder than I ever thought possible because it just shouldn’t have been possible. Yet it was and you gave me more than hat I ever believed imaginable._   
_And just as my mother said, I fell in love with you, let it take me over and fill me up with more joy and happiness than I had ever felt before. I’m glad my mam told me about love in that way, because I fear that if she hadn’t then we may not be at this point now. In my heart I always knew you would be there to pick me up when I fall and that brought happiness I can’t even describe._   
_If you ever have kids, Arthur, (maybe you could adopt a little boy or girl like we were thinking of doing, how amazing would that be, eh?) please tell them that from me. Tell them what my mother told me and make sure they remember it. It will subconsciously change their views of the world and make everything seem that little bit better, that little bit brighter._

_You turn me into a right sap you know, Arthur. I mean, when would I ever have said that aloud to your beautiful face? Occasionally I wanted to, in the after-glow of our nights together; when I felt most vulnerable. But I didn’t, because I thought I might… push you away. Especially in our early days (well, I say early days, I mean more like the first 3 years) I still could not believe fully that you loved me. But now, as I watch you walk in here with such a sad look in your eyes, I can finally, well and truly know that you love me. And I suppose I must have known when you proposed to me that day in France but I’ve only now begun to actually acknowledge and accept it fully; far, far too late._

_But enough of my ramblings, you’re probably wondering what your next tasks are. Now, looking back I have decided that sending you to far flung, exotic places wasn’t the best of ideas. You’re a European through and through, my sweet, and far too British to function properly in an unknown continent where all things multi-coloured and cultural exists by the dozen. So, you are heading back to Europe, because that’s only fair, right? And this place is somewhere very dear to our hearts (at least I hope it’s as dear to you as it is to me otherwise that would just be embarrassing) because of the amount of times we went there and the amount of things that occurred there._

  1. _France :) that’s where your heading back to! To our little hotel in Paris which we always stay in :) hopefully they’ll still recognise you, that would be nice_
  2. _Go and find our café again. You know the one with the best coffee? And drink enough of it to keep both of us high for a week ;) I’m kidding, but have at least one cup on me_
  3. _There was another café we found, a really run down one (that sold really great coffee none the less) called ‘le café la vie’, that was literally just round the corner from our hotel. Go back there, sweetheart_
  4. _They need help, that café run by lovely Elaina and (when we went) her boyfriend Leon. They need help in doing it up and making more people go there. And for that they need two things: 1) Money and 2) Someone to help them. And you are going to be both of those things. I’m hoping you have enough money left in the account that you can spend £1000 updating and promoting the café for them. You can repaint the walls, buy new tables and chairs, clean the kitchen up, rehang the curtains, just do everything you can! They were so nice when you and I went there last and I really want to repay them for their kindness. They must help so many people every day in their little café, making people’s lives just that little brighter; I think it’s time someone did something for them in return._
  5. _Then just rediscover the Paris we know so well. We went to so many places and I really think it’s time for you to relive some of those memories. It might even be a nice idea to invite Morgana out for a bit, I’m sure she’ll love to see you again and will love the shopping opportunities even more!_



_I know these tasks may seem… tedious. But I really think it’s time for you to accept that I’m… that I’m gone; but that I live on in your heart and in your mind. I am still there if you look hard enough. You’ll see me again in your dreams and in your memories. But I am gone. But remember. Please remember me, Arthur._

_M x_

Arthur let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and let the tears fall. There was so much in this letter, it was Merlin scrubbed right down to the core, bleeding his insecurities into the paper and etching them down forever through words. He’d always believed he knew Merlin completely, could tell when he was down or when he wanted to say something but wasn’t letting himself. Obviously not. It seems as though Merlin was not as sure of himself as he had believed, that he had never been full believing of how wonderful he was, of just how fantastic he made Arthur’s life. And it hurt like hell to finally find out how little Merlin had believed in himself. How Merlin had thought he was insignificant, that he wasn’t worthy of Arthur’s love and affection. The tears fell as he realised they had both thought the same thing. Merlin had been the light in his darkness, a fire burning strong in his heart, never ending; and he had always thought he was unworthy of someone so amazing, especially since he had been such a disappointment to his father. A soft chuckle slipped through Arthur’s lips as he realised how ridiculous they had both been and as he realised just how perfectly they had suited each other. The quiet guy who needed someone to bring him out of his shell and the boisterous boy who needed to learn to stand on his own two feet. He remembered seeing Merlin for the first time, and, (even though it was completely cliché) realising with the sort of certainly only a fourteen year old boy could possess, how much he wanted to be that guys friend. Of course, he hadn’t known for several years just quite how much that friendship would change and shape their lives, but it was definitely some kind of attraction at first sight.  
But that was all gone now. Merlin may never have known how wonderful he was, and just how much he meant to Arthur. And that hurt more than losing him at all. Gone was Arthur’s vision of the chatty confident man he had known, and in its place was the worn, faded glow of a man who had more fear of rejection in his heart than Arthur could ever have pictured. His head was now full of _if only’s:_ if only I had loved him more, if only I had shown my love to him more, if only I hadn’t pretended to hate him when we argued, if only, if only. But surely that was useless? He couldn’t just waste his life away on _if only’s_ anymore. It was time to face the future; it was time to face his tasks.

France. Their place. For that’s what it was really. It was the first place abroad they ever visited together, it was the place Arthur proposed, it was where they went on their quest for coffee and met the little old lady who had asked Arthur to marry _her_ (much to Merlin’s delight), and it was the last place they had ever visited together. The streets of Paris held more memories and secrets from their past than anywhere else in the world. And it _was_ time to return, Merlin was right. He needed to relive their times, their happy moments once more.

The sun had begun to rise in Thailand. The peace on the island was broken by the calling of awakening birds in their morning chorus. Tropical songs calling to him from far away, startling him into action, preparing him for the journey that was to come.

After flinging his things haphazardly into his bag, making sure the letters will still safely tucked away in the inside pocket, Arthur headed back to the tiny port and waited for the next willing fisherman who would take him back to the mainland. He didn’t really want to leave; there was a beauty and a peace here of which he had never before experienced. His heart felt as light as a feather, like reality was slowly slipping away and he was entering dreamland. His mind was soaring through the skies, dancing in the clouds like a bird, searching for something he couldn’t place. The sun had not yet fully risen when a fisherman allowed him to join him in his trip. The sky was still golden, and as they rowed away from Koh Phi Phi, Arthur looked back to see the island silhouette against the burning sky; a moment of sheer breathless wonder taking over him, his mouth forming a perfect ‘oh’ as he gazed in wonder at the vanishing island, the fading paradise.

The flight wasn’t as bad as he had expected. He was sat next to a young woman and her baby boy. The boy, she’d told him, was only 6 months old and didn’t really see to enjoy the flight; so Arthur had made it his mission to keep him happy and entertained, giving his mum a well-earned break. It was… nice. He’d never been inclined to have children; the responsibility of it all always seemed far too high. But right here, right now, it seemed that maybe if the world had been kinder, or if the cards had been played fairly, then Merlin and he would have had a child. Adopted, maybe, or possibly through a surrogate, they’d have figured something out. _Merlin would have made a great dad_ he had thought to himself, as the little boy (Connor was his name) gurgled on his lap. It had made his heart ache a little, yet there was something else there too. A small ray of sunshine, that maybe there was a light in the darkness, maybe one day he would be okay.

***

The plane landed in France at 6am local time. The sky was a pale blue in the early November light and the airport was nearly deserted. Paris itself seemed to be waking, but at a more leisurely pace than Bangkok had; stretching itself out and shaking the sleep from its body rather than jumping up like it was on a caffeine boost. 

His first point of call was their hotel (as Merlin had put it). A local hotel, which really would have been better described as a bed and breakfast, was a quaint little piece of Britain among the French city of love. Run by a small, motherly woman called Alice (whom Arthur had instantly loved as she became the mother he had never known); Le Roi Pêcheur was their safe haven. There had even been a time where Arthur had argued with Uther and got so worked up he had ran, ran for France and for Alice in France. She had been there for him when he needed her and had let Merlin know where he was so he didn’t have to fret as much. It had been a long time since that day, and just as long since they had been there. He had written to Alice, of course he had, but people usually forgot him so why shouldn’t she?

It looked the same as it had ever done. The pretty windows still charmingly finished with blue-checked curtains and frilly white ones just behind on the windows, a single red door with a kingfisher-shaped knocker still stood just off centres, a small flight of stairs leading up to it were still chiselled and slightly worn away, in fact most of the street still stood the same.  
It was strange. How much had changed since he had last stood before this building, how much of his life had been taken away from him.  
Climbing the stairs he squared his shoulders, pushing away as many negative thoughts as possible. He knocked on the knocker, knowing already that it was going to be a hard day. 

“Coming, love! One second!”  
Arthur grinned as he heard the familiar voice over the intercom.  
“You could have buzzed in like the normal people!” the door swung open and before he could even register what was happening, Alice had swept him into her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? My goodness, Arthur!” she pulled him into the building, closing the door behind him and kissing him on each cheek. “And what of your young Merlin? He not with you?” she studied his face for a moment and he began to feel the tears well up in his eyes, “Alright, love, come through to the kitchen and we’ll get you sorted.” Now what you have to understand about Alice, is that she was very _very_ British. Despite her many years in France, she still spoke not a word of their language or had even a hint of the French way about her; which, after so long abroad, suited Arthur very much indeed.  
She pulled him through to the small kitchen which was part of her apartment; the bigger kitchen nestled around the back of the actual lodgings. It was nice for Arthur to realised she still really did care. She bustled him through, and fussed over putting the kettle on and making sure he was comfortable for a while before declaring that the forthcoming conversation was going to require some biscuits and some tissues, of which she had neither, and before he could stop her she had hurried back out the front door and was heading back towards the corner shop.  
She reappeared about five minutes later, just as the kettle began to boil; how she managed such perfect timing Arthur did not know. She placed a large mug of tea down in front of him.  
“I’m assuming you still take one sugar,” and he had just sort of nodded in reply, still trying (and failing) to compose himself. “Now, my love,” she continued, plopping herself down opposite him and taking his free hand into her own, already rubbing soothing circles onto the back of it “Start from where we left off.”  
Arthur took a deep breath and a quick sip of his tea, picking the start of his tale carefully “As you know, Merlin and I got married four summers ago. Our lives have been fantastic since then! I mean, okay we’ve had our arguments, we’ve said a tonne of things we didn’t mean but we’ve always forgiven each other. It was about seven or eight months ago, I’ve kind of lost track of time in the past few weeks, when…” he sniffed, taking a gulp of his tea “When Merlin was diagnosed with cancer. Lung cancer. We’d thought it was just asthma or an infection and because he was so busy working on a new comic that he didn’t go to the doctor and… and by then it was… too late.” He broke. The tension of those months, the pain and heartbreak came flooding back in waves; but this time he had someone to cling to, someone who he could just fall apart around.  
“Shh, shh love” she cooed gently, walking round from her seat and pulling him to, she placed feather kisses on his soft blonde hair.  
“He’s gone… Alice… I need him back.”  
“I know, love.”  
He pulled away, pulling a tissue from the box and wiping his eyes with it.  
“Now, love, I’m not going to tell you it’s all going to get better, that all this pain will go away, because it doesn’t. It’s always there, you never forget. But it fades and you begin to move on. He is out there somewhere, guiding you along but maybe you’ll find someone else and you will do things without him, but right now, you just need some time.”  
Arthur smiled weakly at her, nodding slowly. He wiped his eyes again and chuckled slightly “He’s certainly guiding me,” leaning over, he slipped the collection of already opened letters over to her “He left them for me. I wouldn’t have left our house at all if it weren’t for them. In the past few months I’ve been to Australia and to Thailand and now I am back here and I don’t know where I am going next.” He waited as Alice flicked through the pages, smoothing over the small creases that had wriggled their way into the paper.  
It was a few moments before she replied, “So, La Café La Vie? You going to tell me what that’s all about?”  
Arthur’s spirits lifted as he began to tell her of the quest he and Merlin had been on the last time they had been in Paris, about the best coffee in the whole city and about Merlin’s favourite café, La Café La Vie.  
“Well then, love. I think you need a good night’s sleep, a phone call to your sister – who is staying here, free of charge, you both are – and then get to it!”

Arthur knew it was pointless to argue with her, Alice could be quite stubborn when she wanted to be. Instead, he kissed her on the cheek and headed up to the room he always took. Nothing much had changed; there was the occasional picture that had been replaced or a vase of flowers had been added, but other than that it was all the same. The room was, as it always had been, warm and welcoming with a queen-sized bed and a small window that looked out onto the rest of the street. The daily hubbub of activity had slowly started to build as people flitted to and fro between the local shops which had begun to open.  
He threw his things down onto the bed before picking up the classic red phone that sat next to the bed. Calling Morgana’s number (and reversing the charges, couldn’t hurt to save his dear Alice a bit of money), he lay down and waited for her to pick up.  
“Good morning, Morgana Pendragon speaking, how may I help you?”  
He tried and failed not to laugh at her business like tone and replied, “Morgana! How lovely to hear you in all your business glory! You’re still using the same phone for both work and social, I see!”  
“Arthur! My, I never thought I’d hear from you so soon!”  
“Me neither, Morgana, don’t worry about that! Actually, I’m ringing to invite you on a shopping trip – Merlin’s idea you understand and since he barely had a penny,” Arthur knew this was a lie but Morgana had always believed so, so there was no point in wasting some of his travel fund on not making her pay for things, “You will have to pay for the whole trip apart from the accommodation which Alice says you can have for free – but other than that, are you up for a shopping trip in Paris?”  
There was a muffled squeal from the other end of the line “Yes! Arthur I will meet you at the airport first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll make sure I am there for 8 o’clock! Got to go now, sweetheart! I’ll see you then! Ciao!”  
The phone hung up a moment later and Arthur was left to wonder why on Earth he had agreed to let Morgana see him. It was one thing to pretend to be okay over the phone, to cry silently as they spoke, to break down in a moment of weakness then be ‘fine’ in a matter of seconds because she couldn’t see. But with her there… he wasn’t sure what was going to happen.

It seemed as though he had a day to spare, but was quite frankly too tired to do anything with it. The plane journey, despite its entertainment at the time, had really taken its toll. He needed a shower, some sleep and a change in clothes. Which was a thought, he didn’t have any clean clothes, he’d get Morgana to buy him some new ones (the ones he’d bought in Australia were a bit tatty by now anyway and there was a high chance she wouldn’t be seen around Paris with him wearing them and would insist in personally buying him some new ones).  
Eventually, he managed to drag himself up off the bed and into the shower. The room was small and light, with nice wooden finishing’s, a small shower yet no bath tub, a toilet and a wash basin. It was all that he needed. Stripping himself of his clothes, he stepped into the cool water, submerging his head, closing his eyes and allowing the water to wash over him.  
He didn’t spend too long in the shower. But it was midday by the time he stumbled back into bed in his last pair of clean boxers, quickly setting his alarm for 6:30am in order to make sure he was there to pick Morgana up from the airport; and he succumbed to sleep within minutes.

He awoke the next morning to a weak sunrise. The small curtains weren’t doing much to keep the light out, but it didn’t really matter. The cream coloured walls were glowing softly in the morning light, and somewhere across the other side of the room his phone was tweeting – his annoying ringtone doing a fabulous job of 1) waking him and 2) making his whole life feel like something out of a movie. There was a knock at the door,  
“Are you up, my love? I came in after you’d fallen asleep last night; I took your clothes for a wash and put a dressing gown on the back of the bathroom door. There’s no one else staying here till the beginning of next month so you needed worry yourself too much about propriety. Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes.”  
“Thanks, Alice!” he called back, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. Despite the shower he had had last night he still felt the need to shower again before he met Morgana, for some reason she always made him feel like he hadn’t tried hard enough. 

He was down stairs and sitting at Alice’s little kitchen table in fifteen minutes with a steaming mug of tea in front of him as he watch Alice potter around, buttering toast and frying bacon – it warmed him to know she still remembered his favourite breakfast, even after all these years.  
They hadn’t spoken much this morning. Arthur felt she hadn’t dealt with the news of Merlin’s… of Merlin’s death as he thought she had. She had, after all, pretty much adopted both of them and she had become a second mother to Merlin as well as to him. He wasn’t quite sure what to say; hopefully it would get easier when Morgana arrived _or she’ll make it worse by making a scene about me taking off_ he thought to himself wearily.  
“You best be off, Arthur. From what you have told me about that sister of yours, she’s not the sort to be kept waiting.”  
Arthur had chuckled a little, drained his mug, washed it in the sink and given her a quick kiss on the cheek before he dashed out the door, hailing for a taxi at the earliest opportunity.

The airport was much the same as it had been the morning before. The casual, laid-back feel was a welcome sight as he went over to the arrivals board to see when Morgana’s flight would be. According to Alice she had rang back the night before when he had been sleeping and said she would be landing at 7:45, in about five minutes time. He knew, of course, that she would have to pass through boarder security and baggage reclaim before she got to him, so he found himself a spot tucked away in a corner and waited for her imminent arrival.

Forty minutes later she swept through the arrivals lounge, and Arthur was completely taken aback when he saw Gwaine following her (carrying all her bags, not too much of a surprise there then). Jumping up from his spot on the floor he ran over to her, enveloping her in the biggest bear hug he could muster.  
“Morgana!”  
“Some people just hold up a sign, Arthur!” she laughed, “Gosh it’s good to see you!”  
“You too Morgana. You look magnificent!” he pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. It was true. She was in a soft blue maxi dress – never dressing for the occasion, although Arthur did notice a matching coat slung over Gwaine’s arm – done up to the nines in makeup and still looking flawless despite the flight. There was something different about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on but dismissed the thought and decided he may ask her later. “And Gwaine! I didn’t know you were coming too!” he pulled him in for a one armed almost hug (trying to be macho) but Gwaine was having none of it and pulled him into a bear hug to rival the one he had given Morgana.  
“Yeah well, I have to protect the Mrs don’t I, eh?” he winked at him and Arthur gave a chuckle; Gwaine was the only guy Morgana had ever let protect her, Arthur would have thought it sickening if it hadn’t made him so damn happy.  
Morgana blushed a little and murmured something into Gwaine’s ear, who in turn just grinned at Arthur before winking at him and beginning to walk to the exit.  
“I assume you got a taxi here, Mr Backpacker?”  
“Yes I did, mate. But you’re paying for the one on the way back, yeah? Because I am slowly becoming more and more skint the further I go. So, this bit of the trip – at least, until you leave – is on you,” he grinned at them, hailing a cab then holding the door for Morgana and Gwaine as they slid in. “And I have got you free accommodation so…”  
“Yes I spoke to Alice. She seemed… nice” Morgana smirked, almost evilly, but Arthur could never really tell if she was joking or actually being evil.  
“I’ve known her for years, Morgana. She was like a mother to me and Merlin so please just give her a chance.”  
Neither of them replied. Both looking at each other, sadly. It was a moment before Gwaine continued, “How have you been though, mate? And I don’t just mean the trip. You worried the shit out of us taking off like that!”  
He hadn’t heard Gwaine raise his voice like that before, he couldn’t make eye contact with either of them, “I had to, Gwaine. I told Morgana where I was going and…”  
“No you didn’t, Arthur! You said you were going off on a trip because Merlin had told you to! You gave no indication of where you were going, you disappeared off the face of the Earth for nearly two months before sending a 25 word email back to Morgana, then phoning her up a week later crying your eyes out! The stress you have put us under… God, Arthur, did you even think about what this would do to the rest of us!? Merlin’s dead, Arthur!”  
“GWAINE!” Morgana cried, “Stop, Gwaine.”  
Gwaine’s rage seemed to simmer down as he heard Morgana’s cry. Her face had gone an even paler colour at his outburst.  
“Shit… Arthur, mate, I’m…”  
“Don’t. Gwaine just don’t.”  
The mood in the cab shifted. None of them spoke a word till they reached Le Roi Pêcheur. Arthur tried not to notice the glances Gwaine and Morgana kept giving each other and the psychic conversations they seemed to be having. Instead he stared out of the window watching the clouds dance in the sky above them.

When they returned, Alice had a small lunch prepared for them.  
“I thought, you might be hungry, dear. You barely ate anything at breakfast, Arthur and I’m sure the journey has taken its toll on the two of you too.”  
“This is too kind of you, Alice, really! Thank you so much!” Morgana showed her courtesy, despite still being on edge after the taxi ride. Alice seemed to pick up on the tension instantly.  
“A word, Arthur?” Arthur nodded silently and followed her out into the small garden. He ignored the hushed voiced that had started as soon as they had left the kitchen. “What was that all about?”  
Arthur stood silently, staring at the ground. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, or how it had come about. It had just happened, one minute they had been fine and happy and the next Gwaine’s anger had suddenly been unleashed.  
“I don’t understand, Arthur. She’s your sister, he’s your… might as well be brother-in-law and one of your best friends – you said so yourself!”  
“He snapped… Gwaine snapped. Said I was an idiot and that I had put them under too much stress, which really I don’t even understand because they didn’t need to be stressed about me, I warned Morgana…”  
“Arthur Pendragon you listen here! You are to go back inside right now and _talk_ to your sister, then maybe you’ll understand.” And she stalked away without another word.  
Arthur stood for a moment, collecting his thoughts and gaping slightly (not that he’d admit that of course). She was right, as usual; he did need to talk to Morgana, and to Gwaine. He had been a jerk and they deserved to take it out on him. Taking in three deep breaths, he squared his shoulders and walked back inside.

He was met with a sympathetic smile from Morgana (unexpected), a look on nonchalance from Gwaine (not quite so unexpected) and a glare from Alice (expected, she seemed to hate him at that moment in time).  
“Look,” he started, rubbing his hands over each other in an attempt to feel less awkward “I was an arse. I shouldn’t have left so suddenly, it… it wasn’t fair on any of you and you didn’t, don’t deserve to be treated like that.” He looked round, searching for their signs of approval. Alice smiled at him, showing him he must have done something right at least; Gwaine nodded at him, the corners of his lips curling slightly but still not breaking out into his trademark grin; but it was Morgana who surprised him the most, getting up – rather slowly for someone usually so elegant yet Arthur chose not to dwell on it – and scooped him into a hug.  
“It’s okay, Arthur,” she said to him, making sure everyone could hear, and then, dropping her voice she added “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know you hate to hear it but I am. You didn’t deserve to lose him, love,” and she kissed him on the cheek pulling away and settling herself back down on the chair. “Now, news? Gwaine and I certainly have some” he saw her glance over to him, checking for his approval which she seemed to find – though Arthur couldn’t fathom how – “Well, at least I say news when really I mean two sets of rather big news” she beamed at him before allowing Gwaine to have his sense of the dramatic moment,  
“While you were off gallivanting in Australia… I… well you see…”  
“He proposed!” Morgana cried with glee, stealing his moment of glory, “And that’s not all: last week, the day after you called from Thailand, I fainted. I was fine, Arthur! Don’t worry yourself on that one, it wasn’t down to what you had said. Gwaine took me to hospital, the sweetie he is, just to make sure I was okay and they ran some tests and…” she smiled over at Gwaine as she finished “I’m pregnant” Gwaine had broken out into a massive grin, slowly rubbing soothing circles on Morgana’s back.  
Arthur’s mouth fell open, “Pregnant… Morgana that’s fantastic!” he cried, pulling her off the chair as gently as he could manage “I’m so pleased for you!”  
“And that’s not all!” he saw Gwaine’s smile falter a little, but Morgana seemed to be too excited to notice, “We’re having twins! A little girl and a little boy.”  
Arthur let out a bark of a laugh as he realised why Gwaine’s face had fallen so, “Oh my… Gwaine my man! Irresponsible Gwaine having to settle down and look after not one, but two kids!” he released Morgana who, with tears in her eyes was muttering something about hormones and needing more tea and went over to give Gwaine his much needed man-hug for reassurance “You’ll be fantastic mate.”  
“I’m not letting you off that easily” he whispered into Arthur’s ear, “As a punishment for ditching us _you_ get to be our first point of call for babysitting.”  
Arthur groaned but winked at Gwaine, still grinning manically “I won’t let you down.”  
“Good because you’re godfather too,” Morgana laughed at him, “And I think you’re first set of duties is to take me baby clothes shopping – don’t worry, Gwaine will pay for now” Gwaine let out a squawk of protest which she ignored “But when we finally get you back home then you are paying us back for at least half of the things we buy,” and with a final grin and a swish of her hair, she turned to Alice, “May we see our room before we go out? I want to know how much space I can fill.” And together Alice and Morgana left the kitchen chatting nineteen to the dozen about babies and what thing she needed to buy, including, it seemed, wedding dresses.  
“God help us both” Gwaine muttered.  
“My sentiments exactly.” Arthur agreed as he pulled two beers out of the fridge.

The sun shone brightly overhead as Arthur, Gwaine, Morgana and Alice wondered round Paris. The two women hadn’t stopped discussing baby plans all day and Arthur and Gwaine were beginning to lag behind them a little, Gwaine not bothering to even put his credit card away whilst Arthur carried eight bags of baby clothes, toys and blankets.  
“Surely you ladies have had enough now?” Gwaine tried, “We’ve been out here for four hours.”  
“Hmm, I could do with a coffee actually,” Morgana replied, turning to smirk at them both, “Couldn’t you, Alice?”  
Alice nodded “I could indeed. How about that place, Arthur, not La Café La Vie, but the other one that wasn’t named.”  
“Actually, Morgana, love, you’re not having any coffee. The doctor warned you about caffeine and what it could do.”  
“Aw come on, Gwaine! One cup isn’t going to hurt! And I promise to make sure that I am careful”  
“And really, Gwaine” Arthur piped in hoping to get in Morgana’s good books, “It is the best coffee in all of Paris; it took Merlin and I days to find it!” there was a momentary lapse in conversation before Arthur realised, “Look, guys” he tried a smile but it came out as more of a grimace “I just… Merlin… I love him with all my heart, always have done, always will,” tears were beginning to form in the corners of his eyes, he tried to blink them away yet it just made it worse “I don’t want us to forget him, you know? He was everything to me, my life, my soul, my… my reason for being here,” _compose yourself Arthur, compose yourself_ “And by not mentioning him it means we have forgotten. And I will never, ever forget him. So just…”  
“Don’t avoid his name?” Morgana said softly, tears in her own eyes as she slid into the cab Gwaine had sneakily called over.  
Arthur simply nodded, giving the address to the driver and wiping the tears from his eyes with a handkerchief Alice slipped into his hands.

Le Chateau d’Avalon; home of the greatest coffee in Paris according to Arthur and Merlin. The place hadn’t change. It still had the same wooden tables and rickety ‘fashionable’ chairs that seemed like they were going to collapse under you at any notice; it still smelled of the same roasting coffee and it was still just as posh (and therefore expensive) as it had been before. Yet, with Morgana, Gwaine and Alice there too, rather than just him and Merlin… it almost felt _wrong_. He wasn’t blaming it on the others, God no! They were his family and his closest friends but they would never, ever compare to Merlin; he didn’t think anyone ever would.  
But despite the weird feeling that had settled in the back of his mind, stirring only occasionally when he would be reminded of Merlin by something that was said or something he saw, they had a thoroughly good time. They spent a while discussing baby names and Arthur found himself giving Morgana his blessing to name one of their kids (“only the boy though because I don’t think I could forgive myself if you called a girl Merlin”) Merlin. It was weird thinking that maybe in a few months’ time he may be holding a baby boy in his arms, cooing softly to something so innocent and calling him Merlin. It was almost frightening to think that if Merlin was here then the whole baby thing wouldn’t be happening or that he might not even been in France discussing baby names and colours for the nursery. He zoned out of most of the conversation, instead focusing on his cup of (still exceptionally delicious) coffee and making sure he had the second one for Merlin too – not that he told any of them this, though he did see Alice smile weakly at him and he realised she would know what he was doing, after all she had read the letters.  
They spent nearly three hours chatting away in Le Chateau d’Avalon, wasting away time telling Alice stories about their lives and discussing their plans for the future. Arthur didn’t join in with the second half of the conversation. He didn’t know what he was going to do in the future. Of course, the immediate future was going to be spent following Merlin’s letters, possibly revisiting Marramarra afterwards and then coming home to help Morgana with the twins if she needed help and then obviously to go to and help organise her wedding. But after that… there was nothing really left for him. He’d quit his job, lost his husband, didn’t really have a future; despite all the plans he had made in the past about the many things he was going to do and the money he was going to make. He just didn’t have the get up and go anymore, especially not without Merlin to push (or violently shove if he felt strongly enough about it). Gwaine had noticed his silence as Morgana was talking about doing up the nursery and maybe having to either build an extension or move house complete, but had only shrugged weakly, he had no real control over Morgana when she was off on one her discussions – no one really did.

They parted ways a day later when Gwaine decided it was ‘best’ for Morgana to get some rest at home. She had tried to argue but they seemed to have another telepathic conversation as she died down her protests pretty quickly. He waved them goodbye at the airport, a tear in his eye but certainly feeling better than he had done in the past few weeks. Together they had revisited many of Merlin and Arthur’s favourite places in Paris and alone, Arthur had revisited the place where he had proposed to Merlin and broken down at the sight of the bench they had sat on, curled together under the midday sun after Merlin had flung himself at Arthur and declaring very loudly “Yes! Yes Arthur my love! I will never leave you, not ever!” He had had to force himself not to scream that it wasn’t fair, and that Merlin had lied, because he had left him, all alone with almost nothing left in the world. Alice had hugged him tightly when he returned and told him that it was okay to scream and shout, yet Arthur managed to somehow convince her that he was fine, it had just been a tough day.

Arthur spent the next day just relaxing on his own. Paris was charming, but he thought tourists never really got to see it. He wandered through the backstreets where the locals would babble in French, oblivious to the only Englishman for miles around. A small band of men played traditional folk music and a lady pulled him into a dance. Before long the whole square was up dancing, moving together and laughing with each other. Flower petals were showered over them from someone in the houses around them. They didn’t even seem to mind Arthur’s complete lack of co-ordination or his two left feet, they merely found it funny. A bubble had formed round them and nothing else mattered but the feel of the music and the lilt of the melody. It was soft and warm and decidedly yellow, the tender notes sinking into the buildings and bringing them alive, vibrating with energy and sound.  
He ate out in one of the very small restaurants. It was such a dear place, he was the only customer and they treated him like royalty. They talked to him about the dancing, and he soon began to realise that this sort of thing happened all the time. People would get pulled in by the sweetness of the music and before long the surrounding neighbourhood were on their feet and everyone was together. Even the children knew all the different dances, the youngest of them only three years old but they would join in anyway. He found it hard to believe that such a thing existed, especially compared the dull and dreary streets of London where the idea was they hated each other and found every possible way to show it. 

Yet the next day it was time to move on. He couldn’t spend all his time having fun; he had a job to do. It was time to move on to his next challenges i.e. _Le Café la Vie_ and all he had to do for them. 

Le Café la Vie was literally two streets away from Le Roi Pêcheur; perfect really if he really was going to be working there every day.  
Tuesday morning in his second week in Paris, Arthur made the short walk down the twisting streets to find the small café. It was open, but only just. Pushing open the door he heard the familiar ding and then an excited squeal from somewhere out the back. The pitter patter of feet indicated that someone was coming to serve him and lo and behold a moment later Elaina came walking out into the café floor, speaking in a current of rapid French.  
“Well you’ve certainly picked up the language since we last visited!” he laughed pulling her into a hug. It took her a moment or two before she realised just who she had her arms wrapped around and when she finally did she squeezed him extra tight  
“A lot has happened since you and Merlin were last here, my sweet! Come sit! I’ll get Leon to make us some coffees; will Merlin be joining us?”  
It was a perfectly innocent question that she had every right to ask but it stung so much to hear her ask so casually “Merlin… no, he won’t be joining us.”  
She paused “Did something happen between you?”  
“No, no nothing like that. I still love him with all my heart, just as I did all those years ago; but… Elaina, Merlin is gone.”  
“Gone?” she echoed, her cheeks paling.  
“He er… died about three months ago, I’m really sorry I had to tell you about it like this…” he was cut off as she launched herself at him.  
“You have no need to apologise, Arthur Pendragon! Come and sit, love,” she pulled him over to a table and plonked him on a chair before bellowing out to Leon, “LEON! BRING COFFEE AND CAKE… CHOCOLATE CAKE!”  
Leon appeared three minutes later baring three cups of coffee, three of the biggest slices of chocolate cake that Arthur had ever seen and a box of tissues. “I assumed you needed tissues, she only requests cake when there is something wrong, something about weight issues.” He stage whispered, giggling a little as Elaina punched him playfully in the arm. Arthur grinned at them, an overwhelming sense of loss creeping over him as he remembered playing that way with Merlin and the fact he would never do so again.  
“I think we will, mate,” Arthur half chuckled half sobbed, “It’s been a tough year.”  
Leon frowned at him before sitting himself down on the third chair, sub-consciously resting his hand on Elaina’s knee.  
“Arthur just… oh Arthur, I’m so sorry for your loss… if I’d have known…”  
“Can we start at the beginning, Arthur mate? I’m a little muddled and don’t really want to be too out of the picture, is that alright?”  
“Er… absolutely fine, Leon,” he replied, smiling weakly, “About 3 months ago… possibly longer, I’ve kind of lost track of time; Merlin died… lung cancer…” and he broke down. He had tried to hold himself together; surely it should be easier by now? But there was still the hole in his heart where Merlin had been; and as he watched Leon comfort Elaina he cried harder and harder still; he cried at the ease between them and the constant comfort they provided for each other in times of need punctured through his heart as he thought of his mother’s death, and how Merlin had been there constantly by his side to help him through.  
No one said anything for nearly five minutes, and it was Elaina who made the first move. “I’m… Arthur…” but she couldn’t go on, instead Leon spoke.  
“Merlin was a good man, and I, as well as Elaina, are both really… upset that we didn’t have the chance to know him better… if there is anything we can do…”  
“No, no!” Arthur protested, blowing his nose in a tissue, “I’m here to help you actually! Er… Merlin knew you guys needed help, what with money being tight and needing money to make this place nicer but needing customers to get money but needing this place to be nicer to get customers, and I not only have free manual labour to give you, but £1000 which he wants me to spend on you guys and…” he was cut short again by Elaina launching herself at him once more, her flowery perfume overwhelming him a little as he stroked her soft blonde hair “I assume that means you’ll let me help?”  
“Arthur!” she cried into his ear, he could swear his ears were now ringing “We can’t possibly…”  
“I’m not really going to give you much of a choice.” He chuckled as she sat back down in her chair.  
“Well I guess that’s settled then.” Leon proclaimed, winking at Arthur before turning to Elaina “No point in turning him down, love, especially when he is going to help us.”  
“Free of charge and everything,” Arthur piped in, he had to help them no matter what it took, “And Merlin did ask specifically…”  
At that he saw Elaina’s face change and her expression soften, “Well… alright then, Arthur. But I am doing the redesigning, as even for a gay man your sense of design and fashion is appalling,” she poked her tongue out at him and pulled a notebook and pen seemingly out of nowhere, “So, where shall we begin?” 

They spent the rest of the afternoon planning what was to be done to the café. Elaina spent the whole time worrying the list was getting too long and Leon spent a lot of time running to various shops to find out what some of the items they needed would cost. It worked out brilliantly for Arthur, who spent most of the afternoon drinking homemade lemonade and occasionally making suggestions or altering the ideas because he “Will never in a million years be able to pull that off, Elaina; I may be quite practical but that is certainly out of my range of capabilities” but it was great none the less. Le Café la Vie was going to have a new lease of life by the time Arthur was finished and he had a plan to get people going in there too, which he hadn’t told Elaina and Leon about; it was going to be a surprise at the very end of all the work. They figured out it would take him around a week to complete all the week and he added on another week in order to make sure his plan would work.  
He lay in bed that night excited about the weeks that were to come. Elaina was great company and would be in there during the day to help him if he needed it and then, when Leon came back from work she would go and rest while he and Leon tried to get as much progress done as possible. Alice would bring lunch for them at around 1 o’clock when Leon was on a lunch break and during the day Arthur had persuaded her to go round the town to all the people she knew (which was an awful lot of people, it was almost frightening) so they would know about the grand opening day.  
“Well,” Arthur said as the final nail had been beaten into the wall, “I think… we’re done!”  
They celebrated with a bottle of champagne and a toast to the future under the midnight sky in Paris. There were lots of hugs going around and a lot of singing done. It was at the minor celebration that Arthur told them of the opening he had planned for them and Alice took a lot of pride in telling them how much work she had done into getting people to come along. They had, of course, been over the moon – which only served to make Leon sing ten times louder which was never a good thing.

The opening day itself dawned bright with a cloudless sky. Around 50 people turned up to the opening of the small café and the place raked in the cash. If Arthur had been more like his father, he may have found the whole thing tedious; but, apparently, he took after his mother so the day was one of the best of his life. Seeing Elaina and Leon so happy to have their café back to what it deserved, full of happy people who were sure to visit again, made Arthur feel so proud that he almost cried, _almost_.

But as it was, Arthur decided it was time to move on. At midday he slipped out of the café, leaving a note for Elaina and Leon behind the counter and went back to pack his things at Le Roi Pêcheur. It would be easier for him to leave if he didn’t have to say anymore goodbyes, so he left, leaving behind a letter for Alice as well as some of the money from Merlin’s fund – he felt bad not giving anything – and headed to the airport where he would read the next letter before embarking on his next adventure. 


	6. Child of War

_Arthur,_

_I’m hoping you enjoyed France somewhat. Your first time there without me in an awfully long time my sweet and I understand that it must have been quite hard at times; but you’re Arthur, you can cope. There will always be those thoughts in the back of your mind; the little voice telling you ‘I did this with Merlin, Merlin should be here’ but it will fade over time, my love. I don’t want that to be true, know it sounds selfish but I don’t want to be forgotten, to become just a picture hanging on the wall, but I will be and I guess I just need to man up and accept it.  
I’m glad you got to help out Elaina. She’s so lovely and was always really kind to us.  Keep in contact with her, darling, I think you’ll need her at some point; you’re friends, really good friends, and I always felt you were never competing with her, like you do with everyone else (and don’t even try and deny it, you’re a Pendragon, since birth you have been trained to compete with everything and everyone and I would change you for the world). _

_You’re becoming quite a somebody throughout the world now. You’ve been to all sorts of places. Some I reckon you have loved, some you have probably hated and some you have enjoyed but are punishing yourself for what happened there. I don’t want you to regret anything though, love. Honestly, even if you think it is the worst thing you could possibly have done, the chances are (unless it was murder and in which case what the fuck were you thinking!?) it isn’t and it doesn’t matter even a tiny bit in the grand scheme of things._

_We’ve always been the underdogs, you and I. I think you were less so because of your radiant charm and dashing good looks, your sense of humour was adored by everyone and they could see the trust in your eyes. But that doesn’t stop it being true. We were the ones shunned from society because of who we are. You were bi, some people decided you were going through a phase and it would fade out eventually and you would turn into the man they all thought you should be – I know your father certainly thought that. The day you first introduced me to him he pulled me aside when you went to the bathroom, and he warned me “It’s just a phase” he said, “Don’t get your hopes up” he said. But you kept on fighting against him; and with you by my side I always felt like a stronger and better person. You gave me the hope that the name calling would stop and that people would one day accept me for who I am. You showed me a way of living, and you stopped me from living in fear. I was an outsider; I didn’t fit into any cliques, I was always picked last for sports teams, I was gay but not the traditional ‘gay friend’ that the girls wanted. You were the only one who saw passed my shrouded exterior, you saw through the barrier I had made around my heart because they had kept hurting me; you gave me the courage to believe in who I am and to pity all of those who thought it made them big to make others feel small. You pulled me through the darkest years of my life when I truly, honestly believed there was nothing left in this world for me. What I’m trying to say, Arthur, is thank you for being there. Without you I don’t think I would have made it past my nineteenth birthday when I was alone in a London university without a friend to say hello to, without a father to turn to, with a mother who was at that point doomed to die within the month. You stitched my heart back together, took me away from the people who were trying to hurt me and showed me what the world was supposed to be like._   
_Shit. I’ve… I’ve wanted to say that for a long, long time. I would delete it, it seems almost too much. But I think, I know you need to hear it. And why not say it now. Keep that good heart of yours, Arthur Pendragon; open your arms to another, to all who need you. I’m hoping this journey is giving you the strength and the opportunity to see what a difference you can make, because I don’t think you realise just how amazing you are._   
_I’m sorry you’re having to learn so much about me through these letters. In time, I would have told you. But like I have said before, I was always too scared that I was going to lose you. So I didn’t. And now you are left to suffer alone in silence, the perception of the man you once knew changing before your very eyes, I reckon you’re struggling to see how I coped with all of this resting on my shoulders and what more you could have done to help. The answer? Nothing. You did everything, you were everything. You believed in me and that was what mattered; all anyone needs is someone to believe in them and then maybe they can make it out of the darkness and into the light._

Arthur stopped reading, he had to breathe. There was something new appearing about Merlin and it was killing him to see and to read. How had his father been so cruel as to tell the man Arthur loved not to get his hopes up? How had Merlin managed to cope with all of that resting on his shoulders? Left alone to struggle through a tidal wave of misery that was threatening to break and destroy his entire being? He knew now that one thing done wrong, one word misunderstood and he would have lost Merlin as soon as he had found him. And that was scaring him half to death. The only thing for it was to continue reading, hoping that maybe Merlin would give him some insight into more of himself that Arthur hadn’t yet discovered, despite how much they had loved and cared for one another. 

_It’s funny how death has made me a source of wisdom when it comes to life. It gives you a fair amount of perspective, I’ll tell you that much. It suddenly seems as though all the things you thought were important either become ten times more important or become totally worthless. You became ten times more important. And believe me that put you far and above anything ever, even my mum but don’t tell her that or she will be sad and I hate making her sad. You are the only person in this world who I fully care for.  
Now, here’s something that I’m going to ask you to do. You don’t have to do it yet if you don’t feel ready, but eventually I want you to do this. In this envelope you will find a chain: place onto it my wedding ring and yours. Together forever right? Well, reunite our rings once more for me love. It will help you move on too, which is something I really want you to do; at some point you need to put yourself on the market, with the rings round your neck people will see some of your past and won’t think you’re some kind of adulterer because that would be wrong and not like you at all! You don’t have to do it immediately, but I think it will help – of course you could just say what would I know, I mean, I’m not the one who has lost you so I guess I don’t really know all too well what it’s like. But truly, Arthur, you have to take it off at some point, and the more of your life you spend moping around because I have gone, the less chances you are going to have and the less fun you are going to have! Take the leap of faith, jump, move on. _

_Anyway, back to the most important subject of this letter, the tasks!! ;)  
I’ve decided now that you will pick up again on the journey that my insane family once went on. You probably remember that I was a bit of a history nut, give me any element of history and I would be in my element. It’s where we came from; we wouldn’t be who we are now without what has happened in the past, so we need to look at it, discover it, uncover it. There’s one place that is a very important part of the period known as ‘modern history’, and that, dear Arthur, is Belgium! Destination number 4 or 5 (depending on which you class as the first one); is Ypres, Belgium. _

  1. _Take a train to the lovely little town/city thing that is Ypres. There’s no point in wasting money on a plane, it’s really not that far!_
  2. _Find yourself a place to stay, somewhere near the In Flanders Fields museum. If I remember rightly there is a little town square very near it, I’m almost certain there will be somewhere for you to stay in the little square._
  3. _After a day of rest, (I recommend getting there on a Saturday, a market is always there on a Saturday morning AND you have to go the ice cream parlour that is on the corner, that place sells the most heavenly ice cream known to man) visit the museum I just mentioned. It’s a great starting place, giving you enough information about the past, especially the World Wars, that you will be able to appreciate the rest of the sights too – although there is something I have for you if you just wait a moment, which means you will have every piece of information you could ever wish for_
  4. _The very first actual cemetery you should visit is called Ramparts Cemetery by the Lille Gate. I’ll tell you more about it later_
  5. _Then it’s a short walk to the Menin Gate; one of the biggest monuments of memorial to Commonwealth soldiers anywhere in the world_
  6. _The final part of Ypres I think you should go visit, is the Last Post Ceremony which happens every day at 7 o’clock local time. It serves as a living memorial to all those who survived. It takes place inside the Menin Gate; among the hundreds of names that line the walls; with ex-servicemen playing their bugle horns, speeches read, hymns sung and poppy wreathes laid. You will fail to find such a fitting tribute to those men anywhere else_
  7. _Now you’re gonna have to find a bus or a taxi or something or someone to take you around a bit. You’re next stop is Sanctuary Wood; again, I’ll give you more on that in a little while_
  8. _Then you’re heading to Langermarck – the only German war grave in Belgium. This is one of the two most heart breaking ones, sweetheart. When you find out what happened there (all in good time, I will tell you), your heart will probably break; just as mine did_
  9. _This is the other very hard one. This will take guts to cope with but you’re a strong man. And we’ve got to keep remembering otherwise all they died for will have been in vein; we can’t allow that to happen, ever. So head to the ‘Shot at Dawn’ Cells in Poperinghe._
  10. _Your final visit takes you to somewhere a little different. Not a place of fighting, not a place where the dead have been buried forever more; no, this is a house where they celebrated and partied in their final days and weeks in Pops. Talbot house._



_All I finally have to say in this letter is this; there is a little guide book in with this that I wrote myself. Open it when you’re on the way or at the Ramparts Cemetery. I only hope I have done the men who fought in this awful tragedy justice, for I could not bear it if I haven’t. Have fun, Arthur, but remember what happened there. Let it overwhelm you because otherwise, we will forget. Remember them like you will remember me._

_I love you._

_M x_

Arthur slipped the small, red leather book out from the envelope. It wasn’t massive but as he flicked through the pages he could see every one of them was full of Merlin’s neat handwriting. It was… incredible. He could see some of the pictures he’d stuck in, the underlined bits, the CAPITAL LETTERS all used for emphasis. A lot of time and thought had obviously gone into it. But that was his Merlin all over; kind and thoughtful. He thought back for a moment about the rest of the letter, not about the tasks or the history text book he’d been made, but to the confession Merlin had made to him. The realisation that what he had had with Merlin could have ended before it had even begun, brought instant tears to Arthur’s eyes. Why, why had the world be so cruel to the man he loved? Why did it need to put Merlin through such a horrific time that he thought it was necessary to end his own life? Who could be that awful to Merlin, kind, honest, lovely Merlin, to drive him to the edge of human endurance? And how, was it him, Arthur, who had managed to pull Merlin back from the brinks, back to a better life? He was nothing special, why had Merlin chosen him? It was too much to consider at once, so he let it wash over him, consume him. In the middle of an airport in France, Arthur lost himself once more in the pain and grief that had filled him, letting the water over-flow the glass; the tears coming in waves that could not be stopped. 

It was twenty minutes letter when he finally composed himself and pulled his body out of the awful airport chair. He decided it might be a good idea to freshen up a bit, and a look in the mirror in the toilets a minute later certainly agreed with him. Splashing cold water on his face, he began to think about what he was to do next. Take a train to Ypres… _is that even possible_? It didn’t take him long to elect that he’d get a taxi, he didn’t really care how much it would cost him – if things got really tight for money (it was almost definite that they would) then he would get Morgana to bring his credit card over. _On second thoughts,_ he suddenly remembered the pregnancy; _I’ll get her to post it, that should be alright._  
He made his way to the taxi rank, no longer sure of what he was really doing. Everything ached, everything hurt, everything felt like it was overflowing and completely empty at the same time. He had to focus on the letters, they were all he had left of the man of his dreams, and when he thought about it, all Merlin was now was a man in his dreams.  
There was only one taxi willing to take him across the border and all the Ypres, she even agreed for it to only be 50€, which was very nice of her, maybe she doesn’t get much work. She also didn’t seem to want to talk. An elderly lady, whose eyes were soft and kind, but one who could probably only speak French, a blessing to Arthur who truly didn’t need a chat right now.  
It was a long journey, the crackly radio played sweet little tunes, violin quartets and flute duets, it was like a fairy-story. Flashing past was a country he had been to many times, but never explored this far. He felt as though he should feel sad. There was so much for him to explore but he just hadn’t done it, probably never would. He would have been disappointed, he should have been ashamed; but he still could not feel anything, still numb from the revelations that had been made in the letter. He fell asleep sometime around midday, and was only woken when the taxi driver patted him gently on the arm and said something in French, supposedly ‘We’re here’ but one can never be too sure. 

He paid her the money, and watched as she drove off into the night; another lost face in this endless world. It was four o’clock in the afternoon local time; priorities were food and/or hotel. He knew that if he rest his head on a pillow for one more second he would be out till the next morning, and if he didn’t eat he would feel even worse in the morning than he usually did. With that decided he set off across the small square to a little restaurant next to the ‘In Flanders Fields Museum’ which he would be visiting the upcoming day. He had a simple meal, chicken and chips, just like home. It was a bit dry, but each table had a jug of water on the table which he helped himself to at regular intervals. It was nice, it was cosy; sat upstairs, the walls crisp and clean, the tables cleared and spotless. It should have been an intimate moment, a moment to be shared with a loved one, with anyone. But once more Arthur was alone, eating in a restaurant by himself, ordering single meals, no arguments over who would pay. It should hurt more than it did, but he was too exhausted. It felt like years since he had been in France with Alice and Elaina and Leon, with his friends.  
So with his head hanging low, he made his way to the nearest and cheapest hotel. There weren’t many like Merlin had said there would be, but he found one so that’s all that mattered. This time he didn’t notice the pity in the receptionist’s eyes when he asked for a single room, and missed the small from she gave him when he answered her questions with just one word. There was no time for a shower, no time to do anything apart from close the door and kick off his shoes; before he collapsed into bed with a satisfied grunt. 

He awoke in the morning with the sun shining through the open curtains, casting a beam of light right across his face. He rolled over with a small smile on his face, stretching out each of his long limbs, working awake the knots in his joints and the aches in his muscles. His eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sudden brightness that brought with it the promise of a beautiful day.  
Chucking off his clothes, he jumped out of bed and straight into the shower. The water was cool and refreshing, fully awakening him with a blast of exhilarating newness. As he walked back out the shower room, pulling on a pair of pants, he had the opportunity to fully appreciate the beautiful surroundings he was now in. Gazing out the window, with a view across the square, he could see the quaint charms of old cities such as Ypres. It had cobbled pavements ( _it’s a shame they don’t exist in London_ he thought _bloody health and safety),_ creamy buildings that were tall but not overpowering like the ones back at home, and a sense of the days that had passed and the people that had lived and breathed there.  
He headed down to breakfast, once more famished after the best night’s sleep he had in a long while. He ordered toast, bacon and egg, no point in going for a European breakfast when you are quite obviously the most British person there and the waiters are practically shoving tea down your throat. But he couldn’t deny it was a good breakfast, thoroughly enjoyable, 10/10.

Time to move on though, and the first stop a museum just across the road. The glorious day was a sight to behold as he strode across the street, dodging the never ending flow of bikes and dodging in front of cars that seemed determined not to stop. People smiled at him, said ‘good morning’ to him in Flemish, offered him sweets and chocolate and ice-cream; it was a hubbub of activity that only lead to brightening Arthur’s mood; his blonde hair shone with a new found gleam and his eyes danced, he was happy, happier than he had been for a long while. Everything was wonderful.  
He knew he had a day of complete rest to look forward to too. He had somehow managed to arrive on the suggested day (aka a lovely Saturday, Saturday’s are indeed a very beautiful day). The market was in full swing, people trading and selling and bargaining, speaking in rapid Flemish that Arthur wasn’t even trying to understand. Vibrant coloured dresses swayed in the breeze, a lulling jazz piece settling Arthur’s feet into a steady walking rhythm as he explored, and the smell of cooked meats and burning incense candles filled his nostrils, making him feels light headed with joy. 

 

He spent nearly an hour wondering around, taking in every essence of the tiny market; before he headed off for an ice cream in the local parlour, as Merlin had suggested. Right on the corner of the little square, the place was massive! Five huge, sweeping stairs lead up to the glass fronted shop; a counter full of every flavour ice cream he had ever imagined, their bright colours glistening in the sunlight, tempting him with their sweet goodness.  
He stepped up to the desk and the boy behind it smiled at him, small shy smile but it was there none the less.  
“Er… Limon, please?” He asked, his attempt at speaking remotely Flemish was frankly appalling.  
The boy nodded, grinning at him before asking “Cone or cup?”  
Somewhat taken aback by the boys phrasing, he replied, “Er… cone please” With a shy grin  
“It’s okay,” the boy said as he scooped the ice cream “We learn English from very young”  
Arthur grinned, “I learnt German and French, no Flemish though”  
“It’s kind of a mix, so you should be alright,” He handed the ice cream over the counter to Arthur “1.50€ please”  
Arthur pulled out the last of his loose change from his pocket “Sorry it’s in such small pieces” he said as he handed over a handful of 10 and 10 cent pieces into the boys outstretched hand.  
“It is okay, the till needs more change at the moment” And with one last grin he walked away to serve another customer who was waiting for waffles at the other end of the counter.  
Arthur chuckled quietly to himself, before taking a seat by the window where he sat eating his ice cream looking out over the square. The hussle and bussle was still going on, but it wasn’t the same as you seen in London. No one was running, shouting, swearing, shoving people out of the way; they were just walking around making the most out of the sunshine and smiling, laughing with people, talking with one another; it was quite a sight. 

He spent the rest of the day just wandering around, seeing what he could find. He spent 30€ in the chocolate shop and had eaten over half of it before the day was out; he ate dinner at a restaurant next door to the museum and then headed back to his hotel for the best night’s sleep he had ever had.

In the morning the sun was shining once more as brightly as it had been the day before; but today was a different day, with a different message to portray. He was heading to the In Flanders Field Museum, he’d seen it from the outside; looked into the entrance but today it would be different, today he would begin to see the horrors that had occurred in this small town; today, he would see the past.  
He stopped off for a quick shower and a bite to eat before he headed across the square to the museum. 

As he stepped into the cool museum foyer, his thin t-shirt made him feel the sudden drop in temperature more dramatically than he should have done. He didn’t mind though, it seemed to give the whole place the right edge; it wasn’t supposed to be a warm, happy environment. There was a school group milling around at the other end of the room, each queuing up to go to the toilet, a female leader shouting at them in quite angry French and Arthur assumed it was something  along the lines of “Hurry up”, they were being ridiculously slow!

He made his way over to the main desk where a young lady sat typing away at her computer.  
“Er… hi” Arthur said, a little unsure of which language he should be using  
“Hello” The lady replied, not looking up “One moment please” Arthur nodded and stood standing awkwardly in front of her, he felt like a naughty school-boy waiting to be told off by the teacher – not an experience he thought he would experience ever again. After another minutes wait she stopped typing and pushed her glasses back up her pointed nose “How may I help you?”  
Somewhat taken aback by the question (surely it was obvious?) he hesitated and ended up feeling even more insignificant than before. “Er… I’d like to go and have some time looking round the museum if that’s alright?”  
“Of course, sir” she said with a sly smile, like she knew what she was doing, manipulating him on purpose; Arthur didn’t like people like that “Just for you, or will anyone else be joining you?”  
“Just me thanks” he said through gritted teeth, “My husband said I should come here before he died, yes I am here alone”  
The woman blinked three times in rapid succession, Arthur could see the thoughts flickering through her mind before she continued, “Quite, well here you go” she handed over a white wristband “Place the poppy on the reader and you’ll be allowed through. When you get to the top of the stairs register the band and the interactive sights will work in your selected language. Have a nice day” and with that she turned back to her computer screen.  
 _How rude_ Arthur thought, only slightly satisfied with making her feel small. No one should be made to feel insignificant but she had done it first, she deserved to know how it felt. Maybe the next customer who came in would have better luck with her. 

Shaking his head he walked away towards what looked like a ticket barrier that led to a flight of stairs. Glancing at the barrier he worked out what the horrible woman had been saying when she handed him the bracelet and he scanned it across the machine like an oyster card. The gates flashed green, beeped cheerfully at him then slid open; allowing him to pass into the confines of the museum.  
He ascended the stairs, looking around in wonder at the beautiful architecture of the building: the carved arches, the stone work, the marble floors. It was magnificent.

At the top of the winding stairs he found the place where he needed to register his bracelet. It was a very complicated machine – it wanted to know his name for heaven’s sake! But he obliged, anything to make the experience more fulfilling even if it was a little weird.

He turned away from the registration machine, taking his first look around the top floor. Through an arch he could see where the museum truly began and he headed down towards it. The light changed dramatically as he stepped through the majestic arch. It went from a window surrounded, brightly lit room, into a dark, windowless one. The lights were on as low as possible and there were only small amounts of lighting around the exhibits.

He turned into small nooks and crannies of the museums that were lined with pictures from the war. Of men knee high in mud as they walked through the trenches, of the bombs exploding and the tanks charging off into unknown territories. Through a short series of films he began to learn the war from different points of view. The British solider – lonely and cold, far away from home in a war they thought would be all fun and games because that’s what he had been told. The German soldier – who doesn’t want to kill the Tommy’s, he’d met one of them and he had let him live, they can’t be bad people; they are just the same as us Germans. The nurse – she sees the wounded and what is really happening out there on the battlefield, sees what it really is and how the men really end up once they have been on the trenches; her emotions running high as everyday she has to calm her men down as the bombs fall around them and all they are reminded of is the war. The sergeant – he doesn’t want to kill his troops, he knows the order is ridiculous but he has to give it anyway because that’s what he’s been trained to do, that’s what he’s there for; to send in his boys like lambs to the slaughter. The young girl – her father has gone away, mummy said he was on holiday but she doesn’t believe her, daddy would never go on holiday without her and now she’s scared he’s not going to be coming back.  
It was heart-breaking but so interesting. He began empathising with the people he saw, with the men in the photos who seemed to only be fighting because they had to. He flicked through diary entries of soldiers and they all said the same thing “I don’t want to be here, this is hell on Earth, I don’t understand why we have to fight in this god forsaken war”. Somehow, he had always believed they went off to fight with their heads held high and a hunger to fight. But there it was in black and white that actually there was more to it than that, that what he had been taught in school wasn’t actually everything there was to these men’s stories. 

Wandering round the museum taught him so much more than he had ever known before. It seemed there was so much more to the War than he had ever been told or could even possibly have imagined. All the tales he was seeing about specific battles and periods of the war, the bravery of the first flyers and the courage of the men on the ground who would charge up over the trenches and across no man’s land into a shower of bullets surrounding them from each side, the tank drivers and the parachutists. It was horrific to see some of the photos of the men with trench foot and missing limbs, their eyes red and swollen because of the mustard gas that had been pumped through their trenches. It was almost unbearable, but he knew he had to keep looking; if he didn’t remember, if the world didn’t remember then all that would happen would be the same mistakes repeating again and again throughout the rest of time.

As he exited the museum, Arthur was numb. There were no words to describe what he was feeling because so many emotions were fighting for dominance: sadness, anger, horror, disgust, hurt, betrayal. He just could not understand why it had all been necessary, how they sent young men, some of them only boys, out to certain death or at least severe injury, and then just report back home that everything was going brilliantly and everything was fantastic? It wasn’t fair; it hadn’t been fair to the people waiting back at home to be told their loved ones would return happily and well, and unfair on the unsuspecting volunteers who risked life and limb for King and country because they had been told that everything would be amazing and the war would be over in a few months. 

It was getting on a bit in the day, and Arthur decided he couldn’t face anything else. He ate in the same restaurant again, trying his best to find routine in this strange town that was only just being shown to him. The waitress was flirting with him, he could tell. He smiled nicely, answered her questions politely but he tried his best not to give her the wrong signals, it wouldn’t have been fair. All he could think about was what had happened nearly a hundred years ago, who had been sitting in the very same place? Who had been flirting with their waitress with the promise of after the war and a lifetime of happiness to look forward to? It wasn’t a particularly happy train of thought to be in the middle of, but once he started he couldn’t stop.  
The train of thought lasted well into the night, where he lay tossing and turning amongst the bed sheets. Flashing through his mind were images of blasting bombs and dying men; the roars of gun fire and the whistle of bullets speeding past his ears; but the worst, the worst was the mingled smell of blood and rotting bodies. Where these images had come from he did not know, but his imagination was working overtime.

The next morning he wandered aimlessly around the town for well over an hour before he managed to shake himself and head off on his next task. Heading to Ramparts was almost like a breath of fresh air; the grass was green and the larks were singing proudly in the sky, it was beautiful. As he reached the cemetery he reached into his bag and pulled out the little red notebook. 

 

 

> **Ramparts Cemetery is a beautiful place, a very beautiful one indeed. But you would be mistaken if you thought it was always this way. The graves lie facing out across a small lake. It seems so peaceful, such a lovely place that these boys are now resting it. And it is, very lovely. However, when you look out across that lake, picture instead a scene of complete destruction and desolation. That lake was no-mans land. Where you are standing would have been just above the trenches the boys had lived in for many weeks before they charged up head first into gunfire.  
>  Take note, also, of how the graves are laid out. If you look carefully, they are in regiments, scattered around the cemetery with no distinct pattern. Why? Because that is where they fell. They fell in the squadrons, with their friends, with their colleagues and commanders. They left the trench, full of hope and faith about the glory that was about to fall upon them; instead they were shot down before they could see the tips of the enemies guns.  
>  Ypres was pretty much flattened during the first world war, as allied soldiers headed off to the trenches and the Germans retaliated with random bombardments of the city. The saddest thing is the hope they arrived with, the promise of fighting for king and country, the promise of a brighter tomorrow where they would have eternal glory. But hundreds, thousands of men marched into Ypres with their heads held high, and never walked back out again. Never forget. **

Arthur looked up from the notebook, tears rolling down his cheeks. It didn’t seem possible that a place co beautiful could have been the scene of such a horrific massacre. There had to be 30 graves at least in total. As he wondered around he noticed the ages of the men were so young; 21… 23… 19… They had been boys, younger than himself, who had been convinced they were doing the right thing by leaving their families to help in the war, and now they lay slain in a field so far from the homes they had known. Merlin was right, of course, they were in their squadrons. They had been with friends, probably comforting each other as they waited for the order to be called and their fates to be decided.  
It seemed so ironic. The sun was shining high in the sky; there was no noise except for the birds. No one would have guessed that just under a hundred years ago, it had been the scene of a massacre of young men, who could have helped to build the world’s future; instead they were left to face the guns, just unsuspecting children following the child catcher. Merlin was always true though. _Never forget. I can never forget. They did build the future of this world; they helped to save us from the monsters who thought that killing was the only way forward. Never forget, never forget._ The mantra began to whirl round his mind, because he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t forget what he was seeing here, what he was reading in Merlin’s book, what had been sacrificed in the name of God; couldn’t forget Merlin. Everything began to make so much sense; Merlin’s constant anger every time more soldiers were sent off into the world to fight battles that weren’t theirs to fight. He had seen all of this at such a young age, learnt what happened when mad men were left to take control; and he had seen the mistakes of the past and learnt from them. If only everyone felt the same way his Merlin had done. 

He spent nearly two hours wondering round the cemetery, reading through the additional notes about it in Merlin’s little red book. He chuckled a little as he noticed Merlin’s anger bleeding through the words and the angry crossings out where he had gotten so worked up he had nearly torn the delicate page in two. It was his first ever time in memorial cemetery like this one. He was glad that it was so beautifully kept, no litter dropped anywhere, no graffiti ruining the stones; just pure beauty and care for such a heart-breaking place.

It was nearly 3 o’clock in the afternoon when he left Ramparts. He’d had no lunch but didn’t even feel a little bit hungry. The thoughts were back. What could have been’s, what should have been’s, what might have been’s; all of them. But Arthur did as he was told anyway and walked to the Menin Gate. It wasn’t far, even if he did meander along, rather than speed walk at his normal pace. 

Reaching the Menin Gate, Arthur looked up in wonder. It was gorgeous. A tall, Roman like structure, with columns and arches and beams and all of it. The grass was mown to within an inch of its life and there were people milling around; some looking at it, some taking pictures, and some simply walking past. As he walked through the entrance of the gate and descended the small flight of stairs, he pulled out the little bok again, seeing what Merlin would reveal to him this time. 

 

 

> **The Menin Gate was built at the very end of the war as a monument to all Commonwealth soldiers who died in the First World War and were never found again. Some of them ran, and continued to live happy lives away from the world they had once known. They were said to be cowards but I don’t think so – the war had caused them so much pain and suffering that they just had to run, run away and never look back. But most of them died on the battlefield, their bodies so destroyed they could never be identified again or buried under piles of mud somewhere out there in the fields of France and Belgium. How cruel life was to take this from them. They get no proper burial; they’re just a name amongst the hundreds, lining the walls of the Menin Gate.  
>  But here’s what I want you to think about. Is the design of the gate suitable as a memorial? Yes, you say – it’s big and grand, the correct way to remember the lost men. But then I ask, think about what you first thought about it, what kind of people designed buildings such as this? I’m sure you’d agree it was the Romans; it’s a very Roman design is it not? Yet the Romans did all that those men were trying to stop. They conquered, the fought, they killed just to get a bigger empire. Remind you of anyone? Remind you of Hitler? Now don’t think for one second that I think the Menin Gate was the wrong way to remember the men. Of course it shows power and strength and victory, but I believe it is important to point out other meanings also; because things are not always what they seem. **

If Arthur didn’t love Merlin so much, he probably would have strangled him at some point when he was still alive. He’d always been the smarter one of the two of them, his brain storing so much information it was often hard for Arthur to keep up. This was one of those times. Merlin had taken a nice, simple memorial, analysed it and completely flipped the innocence on its head. Arthur had thought that it was a beautiful memorial, something grand that showed off what the men had done. But Merlin had been correct again, it was shown as Roman, who had conquered and destroyed much the same as Hitler had done. So why were they being remembered that way? But then Merlin had pointed it out again the cheeky git, that actually the Romans represented strength and courage and valour, everything those men had been. It was almost too much, his mind was swimming with thoughts that he could not string together at all.  
He walked a few times round the Gate, looking for all the things Merlin was pointing out in his book of many things and again reading the little anecdotes Merlin had added in; laughing and crying in equal measures because that’s who Merlin had been. Someone who could turn serious matters into a more light hearted thing, just by changing your understanding of events and your views on what was going on.

4 o’clock in the afternoon, good time for dinner, Arthur decided. He went back to the same restaurant again and the waitress didn’t even bother to ask him what he wanted to eat and drink, it seemed he had already proved himself to be the kind of guy who ate the same thing every day (which was undoubtedly true). Again the waitress tried to flirt with him and again he didn’t respond; he spent most of the time rereading all the stuff he had read today in the book. He was tempted to read further (which really said something about Merlin’s writing as Arthur never read anything) but knew he mustn’t, for ruining what was to come would only spoil the whole experience. Instead he spent as long as possible hanging around in the restaurant before they kicked him out at 6pm. This left him with an hour before his final task in Ypres; and what do you do when you have just eaten dinner and you have time to spare? Eat ice-cream, as much of it as possible. And that’s what he did. He spent 45 minutes stuffing his face with as much creamy, Belgian ice-cream as possible – all different flavours too; strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, lemon, melon, even Smurf (though it tasted just like bubble-gum which was slightly disappointing)!

It was 7 o’clock on a gorgeous day in Ypres. He headed over to the Menin Gate and was instantly overwhelmed by the mass of people who had gathered. He found himself a spot right at the front then flipped the book open to the next page of Merlin’s writing entitled “The Last Post Ceremony”

 

 

> **Under the Menin Gate at 7pm local time, you will witness a fitting tribute to all the men who have been laid to rest amongst the poppies in Belgium. As you stand watch, 4 soldiers will march forward, stand to attention then blow their bugle horns, calling the ceremony to start. Hymns are sung, prayers are read and then as it draws to a close people – young and old, rich or poor, black or white, male or female – walk through the arch and place poppy wreaths one by one down at the heart of the memorial. You become part of the memory. At that point in time every one standing there is thinking about the same thing, remembering the people who fought, the people who were lost and showing their respects to some of the greatest heroes to ever have lived.**

The ceremony began and followed the exact same pattern Merlin had described. Songs were sang, the voices of the choir ringing out loud and clear into the night; the prayers were said and there was a chill in the air as over a hundred people repeated the “amen” in unison, all remembering, never forgetting. It was nothing like he had ever experienced before. No one in England ever seemed to do this, they never held regular remembrance services, they have one a year and that’s it. It made Arthur proud that at least someone still remembers; they try every day to make sure the world doesn’t forget about what happened.

By nine he was in bed once more and sleeping like a baby. It had been a long day, and he’d learnt more about the war than he ever had done at school. He was too tired to dwell on anything though. Thankfully, his dreams were no longer full of dying men, but filled with the image of Merlin walking around Ieper, happy and oh so alive. It was such a different picture, a stark contrast to what he had been seeing, but it hurt just the same. He’d never been able to share these experiences with Merlin, never seen the animated look on his face as he explained in detail how brave the men were and how horrible the war had been. He could see it behind his eyes when he closed them, could see all the features of Merlin’s delicate face lighting up and dancing with excitement; but when he opened his eyes once more, the image faded and Merlin was gone.

He awoke once more in the morning feeling empty. He’d been getting better, the weight was slowly lifting off his shoulders as the tasks progressed but then the walls had come crashing down around him and he was back at square one, alone and afraid of what the future would hold without Merlin. Maybe it was the fact he was completely alone in Belgium; he had been surrounded by friends in France, then suddenly he was left with only himself for company. That’s what he thought it was, but it wasn’t. He’d been alone in a foreign country before, it had never been a problem. It was because he finally realised that he had nothing to go back to. Morgana and Gwaine would be busy with the baby, the guys from footie would have replaced him in the team and he had quit his job. What was left? In Ieper, on a warm morning, Arthur began formulating a plan. Of course he didn’t know what would happen in the near future, but he needed a back-up plan in case everything went completely wrong.

Climbing out of bed he climbed out into the shower for a brief wash. He’d cleaned his clothes the day before; laundry was no longer an issue. A nice refreshing feeling had now washed over him, he should feel more rejuvenated, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to. Not anymore. He had to spend some more of the money that was left now on a taxi out to Sanctuary Wood, whatever the hell that was. He asked the lady at the desk to send for a taxi, she did so with a small nod and an appreciative smile at his “thank you” in response. It seemed like the taxi rank was really close at the sudden arrival of his driver, but Arthur soon found out it had nothing to do with distance, and all to do with speed.  
The taxi practically flew him to Sanctuary Wood; there wasn’t even enough time to be scared they got there so quickly! _Oh well, it’ll keep the cost down_ Arthur thought as he stepped out the door on wobbling legs.

After paying the driver, he once more pulled out the leather book. 

 

 

> **If there’s one thing no one ever fully understands in school, it’s what it was like in the trenches of World War One. They were the foulest places ever, hell on Earth. And no one will ever fully understand again. Hopefully, there will never again come a time where the men of the world are forced to live basically underground, with little food or water, with bombs and shells hailing down on them; but that doesn’t mean we can forget. Sanctuary Wood was once the site of some of the trenches. It is said that the remade trenches are in exactly the same positions as they had been during the war. This can neither be proved nor disproved, but what can be said is that they are a reliable representation of what they would have been like. I visited Sanctuary Wood on a calm, clear day, the sun was shining and the birds were singing brightly among the trees; but still when I jumped down into the trench itself, the temperature dropped and my trainers were soaked before I could speak. If that’s what it was like in the middle of summer, what on Earth was it like in winter? They would have been knee high in water in some places, suffering from trench foot and sometimes even frostbite; there would have been no hot water; and certainly no peace and no quiet. The bombing was relentless, it drove many men mad.  
>  Sanctuary Wood was less of a target ground than some of the other areas, that’s why it was called Sanctuary Wood, it was like a sanctuary compared to the other places the men had been sent. But it was still the scene of utter carnage. The trees would have been blown apart, many of the destroyed completely.  
>  The war didn’t just affect people; Sanctuary Wood shows us what devastation was caused to nature too, to the wildlife that once lived together in peace and harmony, without a care in the world. Then the humans arrived and they took away that freedom…**

Arthur continued reading. Merlin went off on a long tangent about the beauty of life and nature and how much he hated what had happened to all the animals. Arthur smiled as he remembered Merlin’s passion for wildlife (and as he remembered the squirrel they had once had to look after because Merlin couldn’t bear to see it suffer and Arthur couldn’t resist Merlin’s puppy dog eyes).

Closing the book, Arthur walked through the entrance of the museum. He paid for his ticket, and the lady pointed through a small set of doors which lead through to another part of the museum and then onto the trenches themselves.  
The indoor section of the museum shocked Arthur more than he could ever have imagined. Lining the walls were over a hundred pictures taken during the war, most of them from the battlefield. He’d never seen such desolation. There were men with limbs missing, their faces distorted, their skin peeling away; a lot of them didn’t even look like men anymore. And all through the war, news was being sent home that everything was going well, nothing was going wrong. There were pictures of skulls, of men burying their friends into their final resting places, of soldiers hiding away in their trench, sheltering from the horrors that lay beyond. It was horrible. It brought the war home. He would never have to bury his friends like that, no one would ever send him out to a place where death was the only certainty they had. No one had ever said quite the extent of what had happened there. Merlin had been right again, there had been horrors in the world that no one would ever understand.  
He took a moment to compose himself before he walked out to the trenches. The trees blocked out most of the sunlight, meaning the whole area was bathed in a dim, dingy light; small groups walked around, peering into the trenches themselves and a few had even jumped down into them.  
Arthur took his time, taking in everything. He saw how thin the trenches were, one metre wide at most and then thought again about just how much of a tight squeeze it must have been for the poor men. He jumped down into the trench, his feet soaked, the water ankle deep despite the fact it hadn’t rained since he had been there. He walked through the trenches, peering into the dugouts and picturing them three or four deep with men, rats scuttling about beneath their feet and lice crawling all over them. He crawled through some of the tunnels, the water far deeper than he had ever imagined possible, holding a torch above his head; it didn’t do much to aid his vision. He was cold and wet when he emerged from the trench, and he’d only been in it ten minutes maximum; he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would have been like to have been in there for weeks on end, never knowing which day would be your last.

He didn’t have anywhere to go other than onwards, but he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. Instead he got into a conversation with a young woman called Mithian who seemed rather excited to have someone to talk to. She was supposed to be working behind the desk, but it wasn’t peak season so they didn’t mind if she just wondered around for a while each day. She reminded him of Merlin, it wasn’t just the dark hair, pale skin and gorgeous eyes, it was the way her face lit up when she talked about the trenches and things she felt passionate about. She seemed to bring out more of him, like Merlin used to do, she got him to think deeper about the meanings behind the place, about his understanding of the war and the men who fought in it. She made the day so much better, just by being there with her blinding smile and kind eyes; she didn’t even try and flirt which him which made a lovely change compared to the persistent waitress of the last few days. She managed to fill his heart with the hope that one day he would find someone again, maybe; someone who could light his world up once more and bring the joy and laughter back to his days; not yet, he wasn’t ready yet, but one day, definitely one day.  
She had to dash after a while, the museum was getting busier again but he didn’t mind. He kissed her on the cheek as he left and she giggled like a naughty school girl, it was quite adorable really.

A load of taxis were waiting outside and he slipped into another one – praying that this next one wouldn’t be quite as bad as the last. To his relief, it wasn’t. Langermarck Cemetery was his next destination. He’d never even heard of it before Merlin had told him about it – surely that must mean something, he just wasn’t sure what at that point.  
The taxi driver pulled up outside a tiny gate that led to an enclosed area, the inside of which could not be seen from the road.  
“Most people never heard of this place” the man said “It’s bad, but they were enemy, we can’t help what we’ve been told” then he drove away; Arthur realised later on he hadn’t even taken the money.

Slowly, Arthur stepped through the arch, opening the book as he went.

 

 

> **Langermarck is heart-breaking. You’re most probably the only person in the cemetery, there’s no one else there. The oak trees (oak because it’s the symbol of Germany) hide the place away and make it feel dark and small. If you look closely, you see that their roots are pulling up some of the gravestones. No one cares for this place. They were failures. They were just 19 years old.  
>  It’s known as ‘the student grave’ because most, if not all the men buried here were just students. There’s a pit in the ground, in the very centre of the cemetery; that is a mass grave for 25 000 men. 25 000. Their names are on the blocks that surround it.  
>  There are barely any names on the graves either. Mainly just numbers. Why? Because the bodies were so mangled, so destroyed, that they couldn’t be identified. AND, because they didn’t want to identify them. These were the losers of the war, they had placed shame upon Germany. They weren’t given a proper burial for over 5 years after the war ended. Now say that the war ended peacefully. These men were shown no respect at all, just dumped and left alone, out of sight, out of mind. **

Tears were rolling rapidly down Arthur’s cheeks as he walked around. ’25 unknown soldiers’ then next to them ’17 unknown soldiers’ hundreds and hundreds of men lay buried here, but no one knew, because no one cared. When the war was over, they had been left to rot because they had failed their country. But they had fought just the same as the British, sent out to fight with no real choice. Yes, many Germans had chosen to fight, but just as many hadn’t wanted to. But it was either death on the battlefield, or death for cowardice back at home.  
The tombs were black, dark, the writing barely readable. So different to those in Ramparts which had all been white, beautifully engraved, facing into the sunlight, standing tall and proud. These just lay on the floor; people had tried to hide them.  
Arthur could see why Merlin was so angry.  It wasn’t fair. Merlin’s life had been celebrated, his death had been marked and he would be remembered. These men, they weren’t so lucky. They were just debris, left over from the war that no one cared for anymore. It was sickening.

Arthur stayed there for an hour before it became too much. He left. There were no taxis around, but he had grabbed Mithian’s number from her before he left Sanctuary Wood, so he called her and she sent a cab down to him, which he was very grateful for. Heading to Poperinghe, he reread the pages of the book; all the way from the beginning. It was finally beginning to sink in of just how horrific the war had been, and just how little was actually taught about it in schools.

He reached Poperinghe at 3 o’clock. He was already a complete mess but thought he might as well carry on. At the hotel in Ypres, he had researched the opening times of Talbot house and it was open till nine, he should have plenty of time.

The Shot at Dawn Cells. The worst place Arthur had ever been to. Worse than Sanctuary Wood, worse than Langermarck. 

 

 

> **When someone was court martialled, and found guilty on acts of cowardice, they were brought here to be shot by their own country.**   
>  **The night before, they were drugged, to stop them from lashing out and to stop them from crying. At six o’clock they were walked out to the post, tied to it, a white piece of fabric pinned on their heart (a target to be aimed at) and then shot. A six man firing squad would come into the courtyard to perform the deed. 5 guns would contain blanks, 1 would have the real bullet – to reduce the trauma on these men for they never know whether or not it was them who killed their friend.**   
>  **Many – I’m not saying all, because there will have been a few who were just cowards – were suffering from shell shock, or what we now know as post-traumatic stress disorder. They couldn’t cope with the bombs anymore, couldn’t bear any of it anymore. So they ran. They disobeyed orders because there was simply nothing else they could do.**   
>  **Some of them had stayed behind to protect their friends, because the order was stupid and their mate was injured. They chose between dying a ‘hero’ and dying a coward. It was one hell of a brave decision, choosing to die a coward’s death rather than leaving their friends to be killed.**   
>  **And some, not many, some objected because it was against their religious or moral beliefs to kill and fight in war. They didn’t kill because it wasn’t right to kill people who should never have been involved in the first place. They were brave too. Not doing what they were told because they believed so strongly that it was wrong.**   
>  **Only now are they beginning to get recognition, nearly a hundred years since they died. It’s wrong. They deserve so much more than what they got. They died cowards, unrecognised, unnoticed: but I honestly do believe they were some of the bravest men this world has ever seen.**

Arthur stood in the middle of the cell in shock. The walls were engraved with hundreds of markings; some unreadable but some could be made out. These men had engraved their regiment symbols onto the walls of their cell; loyal to the end, proud of where they came from and who they had fought for. They weren’t cowards, they had made mistakes and they died because of it. They had been ill, they had done the wrong thing; but mental illnesses weren’t recognised back then. If people could see the physical scars then you were unwell, injured; but they didn’t believe those who said they were mentally unwell. They had sent sick men back out to the battlefield. Some of them had just run into the gunfire, knowing it would get them killed; but by that point they didn’t care, it was better to die than to stay living in this hell on Earth. Others, others ran. Because running was all they knew. They did whatever they could to get out of there; but where caught, unfairly trialed, and sentenced to death. It wasn’t fair.

He was kicked out after an hour, more people wanted to visit. Yet the tears wouldn’t stop. Silent tears that just kept falling no matter how hard he tried to stop them. He found a small café in the middle of the town, and ordered himself a strong black coffee. It woke him up and put some life back into him, but it wasn’t really enough. He’d seen so much in that day, he should stop, he should rest. Arthur Pendragon had never done what he should have done, he wasn’t going to start now. Anyway, Merlin had said the last bit wasn’t as bad; it was where they had lived rather than where they had died.

He made the short walk to Talbot House. Poperinghe wasn’t as pretty as Ieper, but it had its own little charms. Tiny windows, and cobbled pavements, quaint chimneys and bustling restaurants – it was almost like being in France again.

Talbot House looked just like any other house in the town. But as he entered, everything changed. He was lead up a flight of stairs and sat down in a small room with lots of other people. There, a young man called Percival began to tell them all about Talbot house, how it came to be, and what it meant to all the men in the war.  
“Talbot House was run by a very large man, who everyone nicknamed Tubby. If you asked anyone around Pops, they all knew who Tubby was. He wasn’t a traditional vicar, he encouraged drinking and parties. Tubby had no money, none what so ever. So he borrowed it. He bought this place and did it up. He opened it so it became a safe haven for the soldiers who were on leave. When things broke of he needed new things, he borrowed the money; it was a simple life. At one point, even the roof was blown off, he just borrowed the money of someone and rebuilt it, bigger and better than before; just to show the Germans what he was made of. Shows were performed, drinks were served; it was a place full of hope and joy, away from the horrors of war”  
At the end of the video, he lead them back downstairs and allowed them to wonder round the house of their own accord.  
Once more, Arthur pulled out the notebook and it pretty much said exactly (word for word) what Percival had said just moments before. Good old Merlin, he never forgot anything.    
Arthur wondered round for nearly two hours. The room at the top, up one of the steepest flights of stairs he had ever seen, was a chapel where the men had gathered whenever possible to pray to the Lord, that he may have mercy on their souls and to let them live. There were eight bedrooms, where some men slept when they simply had nowhere else to go. Downstairs was just one massive room where they could be together. There was a piano in the corner and Arthur could picture them all round it, singing as the skies flashed with those deadly fireworks of destruction. It truly was the place where they had lived, some of them it was the last place they had called home. It was beautiful, and it warmed him to the core. Tubby had made this place for them, he had given them somewhere where the war no longer mattered and they could be themselves again, just for a little while again.  
He chatted with Percival too. He was a big man, but he seemed to be in love with the house and it’s story. He was a volunteer, apparently, working there over the summer till he had to go back to his teaching job. He loved it. They shared the view that Tubby must have been an amazing man, to do all this and want nothing in return. Percival lifted his spirits and he left Talbot House with a spring in his step.

Under the moonlit sky, Arthur found himself another hotel and pulled out the next letter. Belgium had been the best experience yet, and he couldn’t wait to get stuck into what the next letter had in store. 

 


	7. Sunshine in Spain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I have been so long in updating this! I have had so much school work you wouldnt believe it!  
> You might also want to check some of the previous chapters because there have been a few alterations :)

His eyes were dark and menacing. His heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he recalled the email he had received from his son. There was no chance in him giving in; his son would not abandon the business. His suit was dark and clean cut, his greying hair slicked back and a snarl permanently fixed on his face. Arthur could try and get away with ditching his family – Uther could deal with that – but he could not leave the business as well. Uther Pendragon was on the war path.

~*~

_Hello Arthur_

_I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that I’ll be going soon, incredibly soon actually. Which means there are only going to be a few more letters for you to follow. I’m running out of time, sweetheart. And that hurts so much. I thought we would spend eternity together, yet here we are. It’s the end of the road for us as a pair. Although it’s sad, it’s true and always will be. Your road will keep on going, expanding out into the sunset whilst mine comes to an abrupt end. But that’s okay, it’s how life works._

_I hope you enjoyed Belgium. It certainly is one of my favourite places in the world that we went to. It was the last one that also held any specific meaning to any of us. My great-grandfather fought in the war, and he died out there too. He’s one of the hundreds of unknown soldiers that lie in the fields of Belgium. But the rest of the trip is more of a return journey. You’re on the home straight now, darling. One more country, then back to the delights of home and normality – well, possibly, just wait and see._

_However I know how tired you must be. Tired because you seem to have ‘lost everything’ (and don’t deny that you never said that, I wasn’t asleep the other night when you broke apart in Morgana’s arms), tired because this trip has been long and arduous. Please don’t give up, my love. This letter is about rest, relaxation and most of all recuperation. I want you to be you again. Not the shell of a man you have become over the months that have just passed us by. I want you to shine again Arthur, get back that happiness and radiance you always used to possess even in the hardest of moments when it seemed like everything was falling apart. And even if you won’t do it for me, do it for yourself. There is no way you can carry on like this. You need to begin again, Arthur. Because even when I’m dead and buried the world will still need you, whether you want it or not. Believe me, my sweet, everything will be okay._

_Anyway, back to your tasks, because I know how much you love them (and I’m getting really tired writing this, sorry if I looked – oh wow, writing in the past tense about myself, how bizarre – utterly wrecked)._

  1. _Get on a train or plane to Spain (I knew my poetic talents were wasted in this lifetime! You never know, I’m gonna come back as the world’s greatest poets to ever live – I mean, sorry Mr Shakespeare but move over because I am coming through – and I will write sonnet after sonnet to my golden God who I can remember but not visualise)_
  2. _Find yourself a nice hotel by the beach_
  3. _Simply relax. Spend days chilling by the pool, reading books you picked up cheap in the market, explore the beaches and find somewhere nice for you to spend your time._
  4. _Have some fun if you want to. Attempt some of the ridiculous water sports they have available, make friends with some of the locals using your pathetic Spanish vocabulary and explore the local culture_



_That’s basically it. Don’t wear yourself out, but have a good time. This is your time to just be alone for one of the few occasions on this trip. Do this for yourself because you want to and not because I told you to. I didn’t want you to do what I specifically do what I told you to this time, because I’m not going to be with you forever. These letters will run out, just like I am now – running out of power, running out of steam._

_I love you,_

_M x_

Arthur grinned to himself. Despite the dark undertones this letter was suggesting, Merlin was telling him to relax and he knew it was time he did. He knew he had worked himself to the bone over the last few months; never stopping, never resting because if he did he would fall apart. Yet now was different. He was still hurting, still broken, but he was mending. The glue was beginning to dry and the cracks that had shattered through his life were pulling themselves together again.

It was all so ridiculous, Merlin becoming a poet in his next life (everyone knew how terrible Merlin was with poetry, Shakespeare had been his worst enemy apparently when he was at school – maybe the drugs had really altered his mind), making him relax when Arthur was Mr Get Up And Go  - it was mental. But it totally worked because this was Merlin. Merlin who knew him well enough to see, even when it hadn’t happened yet, what Arthur needed and how he needed to deal with things.

It seems that Merlin had been right again. Arthur needed to work out his anger, taking it out on people in a positive manner by helping them because they couldn’t help him. Then he needed grounding again, bringing back in his family and friends for a short burst of normality in a foreign setting that allowed him to feign ignorance and pretend it wasn’t happening. And then came acceptance. Arthur would sit and think through his problem. Mulling over his thoughts and feeling in a quiet and controlled setting where no one could disturb him until he was ready.

_Damn him and his amazingness_. The whole tripped had been planned perfectly _the little shit._ Though Arthur didn’t mind, not one bit. It worked, and he was healing. Fair enough, he would never fully be better and there would always be something missing from his life; but he was getting better. He was a Pendragon once more, strong and independent, ready to face the world ahead of him.

And so he sent off, taking both a train and a plane to Spain (because who could deny such wonderful poetry?), stopping on the way at an internet café to look for a suitable hotel to make his way to.

He found a small one on the west coast of Spain. He didn’t pick a massive chain hotel for fear of being found by someone he didn’t want to be found by and he didn’t want to be interrupted. It was nestled in a small fishing village right on the sea shore. The beach was small and quaint, but the hotel owner promised to lend him a deck chair and some towels if he wanted to go to the beach.

It was easy, simple, fun. For the next two weeks he simply relaxed. He had nowhere to be, no one to meet, no cares or responsibilities and everything, for the first time in over a year, was beginning to look right again.

And of course he had his low moments, moments where he didn’t want to get out bed at all. Where he would create his own night, drawing all the curtains and shutting himself away from the cold cruel world that had taken his Merlin from him without even a consideration as to what it might do to him. Then later he would be fine. The anger and regret came in stages. Remorse and helplessness coming in waves like the sea, a tidal wave of emotion crashing into him before retreating and pulling back again, sucking all the life from him before he returned to normal once more.

The women in the hotel began to pity him. The maid had found him one morning curled in a ball in the corner crying his eyes out and he’d told her everything; not because he wanted to but because he simply couldn’t stop. And it had helped. She wasn’t anything to him; he didn’t have to tell her. But he had and it had helped, it had helped so much. They even gave him free food and drinks and access to anything and anywhere he wanted. Whether it was because they felt sorry for him or because they had decided he wouldn’t take advantage of them, he did not know. It didn’t bother him though; there were worse things in life than being spoiled over by a couple of Spanish sweethearts.

The gentleman who ran the hotel was a tired, balding man of around 70 years old. He was lovely, a complete hit with the ladies who worked there because they thought he was cute (although he was sure Marietta just wanted her pay check to be higher than it should have been) and he was lovely to everyone, including Arthur. And in the end he had roped him into doing work around the hotel – so much for a nice relaxing break.

It had started off fine. He’d been scuba diving. That had been wonderful. The multi-coloured shining world of underwater paradise had entranced him and got him thinking once more. He’d never felt so alive and so enraptured than when he was swimming in the sea surrounded by hundreds of fish which were all circling around him in a whirlwind of mayhem. And for once he could finally see the world the way Merlin had. Following the philosophy of life where you embrace everything you have because you’ll never be able to have everything as the world is so much more vast, so much more mental and magnificent than anyone could ever understand. You could see the land from anywhere, but the sea was something completely new. It was unexplored and something that no one would ever fully understand. If that was how Merlin had seen the world then there was no wonder he was always so excited about new things. Learning things and seeing things you had never seen before was enticing, and he’d never fully believed that until he’d been scuba diving. The man who had taken him out there had laughed at his enthusiasm, saying, in broken English, that “you are the most excited person about fish I have ever met!” and Arthur had replied with a shrug of the shoulders and a “Well, everyone has their passions” to which he had laughed again and driven the boat back to shore.

He’d then found a small travel company who agreed to let him go on their banana boat as long as he paid extra (which he had because he couldn’t let an opportunity like this go). Now Arthur had never had the chances of a normal teenager. Lads holidays were a big no no in Uther’s eyes, so he had never been anywhere but on family holidays which were more just glorified business meetings. And he only had a sister, who was glamorous beyond words, so really, banana boating had never even been considered. Until Merlin – it was funny how many things could end that way, how so many stones had been left unturned till Merlin had stumbled into his life. His ray of sunshine, his Merlin, had made him a better person and shown him things that would never have happened otherwise. And as he flew off the boat for the fifth time in a row, his head thrown back with laughter, and his eyes shining like sapphires in the midday sun, Arthur new that everything would be okay.

When he had returned to the hotel that night he had slipped out the Belgium letter, skimming over it until he found the passage he was looking for. The bit about the ring. The silver chain slipped out of the envelope and into his outstretched hand. From deep within his bag, in a small blue box he had placed it in for safe keeping, Arthur pulled out Merlin’s wedding ring. He stared at it for a moment, images of his wedding day flashing through his mind, images of them dancing together, and occasionally the flash of light as Merlin’s hand caught the light and the ring began to glow. He allowed the memories to consume him because he knew they wouldn’t last forever. That although Merlin’s face would never fade, the rest of him might. His mannerisms would be gone from Arthur’s thoughts, tiny domestic moments that shouldn’t even be memories wouldn’t be there anymore and he had to appreciate them while he could.   
When Arthur had gone down to dinner that night, his ring finger was bare. On a silver chain around his neck sat two entwined silver wedding bands, his and Merlin’s. Together forever, just like Merlin had said. The waitress saw it and smiled, but didn’t say anything. His finger felt completely naked and he didn’t really like it, yet he pushed the feeling down and fiddled with the necklace instead. He could feel the inscriptions that had been hand carved into them by an old family friend, inscriptions they had picked for one another “Forever, I swear by myself” was what Merlin had chosen for Arthur remembering, as he did, how much he loved it in Romeo and Juliet when Juliet makes Romeo swear his love not by the moon because of its fickleness, but by himself. And in Merlin’s, chosen by Arthur, “the best of me” which was 1) exceptionally beautiful and sentimental in Arthur’s opinion and 2) the name of the book Merlin had his nose buried in when they had first walked – quite literally – into each other. They were silly things, that would mean nothing to anyone else, but to those two they had meant the world. Neither of them knew what the other had picked until the wedding day itself and they had both giggled and cried with happiness at the ridiculousness of how wonderful they were for one another.

After banana boat fun had come some general relaxing. He had read “the best of me” for the first time in his life and initially he had cringed at how girly and romantic it was, but they he had become entranced by the story. He had cried at the ending because seriously who wouldn’t!? Especially Arthur who was used to reading SAS, beat ‘em up novels, not tragedies (although his favourite Shakespeare play didn’t count, and not many people actually knew about that particular obsession). He’d then attempted to read a Spanish novel that one of the locals had thrust upon him when he went the market to look for them but had given up after only understanding one word on the whole of the first page. In the end though he had settled for reading the entire collection of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s wonderful adventures of Sherlock Holmes and had barely put it down since he had started (thankfully this was on an e-reader he had picked up really cheaply in town so he didn’t need to lug a massive book around – he had since decided to by himself a better quality one when he got home if he had enough money left over).

It had been nice. He’d been planning to leave after three weeks because he was completely and utterly rested. But then that little old gentleman had smiled sweetly at him and pointed to the roof, telling him it was leaking and they needed someone to fix it. And just like that Arthur found himself on the roof of a Spanish hotel in the middle of nowhere, fixing a roof that was leaking when there was no rain, in the midday sun, sweating his guts out. He only wondered briefly what his life had come to, and that was at some point after three hours of solid work to fix all the guttering before he could even start on the roof itself.

Yet he had done as he was asked. They’d given him free accommodation whilst he did it and gave him some of their homemade lemonade which was only ever reserved for the locals so “tell nobody in town I gave you this”. Then again he packed to go, but they kept finding jobs. Odd ones for him to do and before long he had been there two months. That’s when all hell broke loose

~*~

It was a slightly overcast morning. Arthur had slept in for a while because his arms were aching a bit after the day before. he had followed his normal routine of showering, shoving some clothes into the washing machine and finding some new ones, reading the paper that someone kept bringing to his room since he started doing all the work, then chatting with whichever of them came to bring him breakfast.

Everything had been going fine. The shower water was warm, he actually had a clean pair of pants and not a two or three day old pair, the paper had brought news that for once wasn’t even bad, and it was Lucia who had delivered his breakfast and sweet old Lucia was lovely to talk to. Alright, she would go on for a while like most people her age did, but the stories she came out with were hysterical and it sometimes made Arthur yearn for the grandparents he’d never had. Then again, they would probably have been as bad as his father, if not worse.

By 11 o’clock he was downstairs and waiting for Paulo to give him that day’s tasks. He was whistling a little tune, a local one that he had picked up the night before when he ate dinner in a quaint little restaurant in town. There was always live music playing from one of the places and he always picked the one with the music in to eat in. He couldn’t quite figure out why, he assumed it was because it made the whole place have a more traditional feel to it and he really ought to have the whole experience whilst he was out there.

He had his back to the hotel entrance and was trying to read the Spanish poster that took up most of the wall when he heard a small cough from behind him. He turned with a flourish, spinning on his ankles to greet Paulo for the day, a broad beam on his face which faltered instantly as a flicker of recognition flickered across his face.

“Hello, Arthur” the cool voice said, not an ounce of emotion being portrayed through the basic greeting.   
Arthur fell back on his heels, his hands falling instantly into place behind his back and he suddenly felt horribly exposed “Father…” but he trailed off. There were no words he could think of that would make this encounter any less excruciating and decided it was best just to let Uther take the reins.  
“You’re coming home now, Arthur” he said smoothly, a faint smile appearing on his lips. “We’ll get you the help you need and then you can come back to work and this whole charade will be over”  
And all at once Arthur had his voice back, before he could stop himself the words were spilling from his mouth in an angry turrent of hurt and betrayal “Charade!? How dare you father!? You think this whole thing, this whole trip round the world was just some kind of game!? Well I’ll tell you what, you have got it completely and utterly wrong. This trip is what I needed. I did not need to sit and mope around in an empty house that was full of the memories I couldn’t stomach anymore because it _hurt_ , father”  
But Uther didn’t even flinch. He calmly placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder “I can clearly see you have become delusional, I knew that boy wasn’t any good for you. Everything will be alright now, Arthur, you can come home and find yourself a nice girl and everything will be right again. Come on now, pack your things” it was like he was talking to a toddler or to a mentally deranged person or a dog. And when the force of what he had just said hit Arthur fully in the chest he physically reeled back in shock  
“HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT!?” he screamed, he could here members of the staff running to see what the commotion was all about in their precious hotel lobby, but damned if he care “MERLIN WAS MY WORLD, JUST LIKE MY MOTHER WAS TO YOU! Don’t you remember!? Don’t you remember what it is like to love and lose someone you care so much about!? How can you not!? I’ve heard the tales of you barely looking at me in the year after my mother died because you blamed me for her death! I have no one to blame for this but myself and I had to get out of there and follow the only part of him that I had left! YOU IGNORANT, SMALL MINDED, PATHETIC LITTLE MAN! YOU DESERVE NOTHING”   
Uther slapped him. The sound of flesh on flesh resonated through the small hotel and Arthur heard a faint gasp and Paulo ran (well, shuffled really, he couldn’t really run very well anymore, bless him) towards them.  
“What is going on here!?” his cried, his accent heavy and his arms flung up in the air “Why are you hitting Arthur?” and he glared at Uther, boy how Arthur was glad he wasn’t n the end of that look, “Arthur is good boy, he help fix my rood and my… what were they called again, Arthur?”  
“Drain pipes” Arthur muttered, wiping his brow then rubbing his eyes in frustration.  
“Yes those, he fix my drains pipe for free!”  
“Arthur is my son…”  
“And still you slap him! The ladies told me what happened to his Merkle…”  
“Merlin” Arthur supplied, rather at a loss for words over what was happening. Uther was actually beginning to look worried about the little man who was flailing his arms around in front of his nose  
“Yes that’s what I said! They told me and I think it sad because he love him very much. You should be care for him, Arthur is nice boy and he deserves your support! If you are not here for that then you can take your custom elsewhere!” and he turned to face Arthur “Now, is your face okay?” Arthur nodded in response “Right well can you fix tap in the kitchen, please, it keeps dripping”  
Arthur laughed “I’m sure you make these problems just so I can stay”  
“Yes well we like you here. You should stay as long as you need”  
“I will need to go home soon, it’s a very important time for my family”  
“It is?” Uther interrupted “Anything I need to know about?”  
“If you don’t know about it already then you don’t need to know” he snarled before replying to Paulo “I’ll go fix it straight away” then added in an undertone “Don’t do anything stupid” and Paulo just nodded in response.

Arthur stormed into the kitchen and paced for nearly ten minutes. Thoughts of what had just happened ran marathons through his mind until he had taken them down every possible alley of anger that he could find. This cheek throbbed from where he had been hit – hit by his own father! He could never tell Morgana about this, she would never forgive Uther and the whole family would fall apart instantly, well further apart than it was already and there would certainly be no chance for reconciliation. He knew he needed to get his head in order so he started to mentally put together a list of ‘things he had learnt from that conversation’ (wow, he was more like Merlin every day, he was really beginning to love listing things):

  1. Uther didn’t know about the stuff with Morgana and that seemed to include both the babies and the wedding. This was both unsurprising and really quite surprising at the same time. He knew that Morgana and Uther had had their differences, Gwaine for one had been a massive source of conflict because he “wasn’t suitable” and Arthur tried his best not to think about the screams that had followed that conversation – he was sure his ears were still ringing from the high frequency. But at the same time he thought she would have told him about the twins, they were his grandchildren after all. Maybe Morgana wasn’t quite as comfortable being pregnant as he thought she was? He’d have to speak to her at some point and find out what was really going on. He thought she’d have told everyone and their grandma that she was having twins by now and she hadn’t even told her father. Weird.
  2. Uther didn’t classify his relationship/marriage/life with Merlin as anything other than a silly boy’s fantasy. And that stung. He thought Uther was getting over the fact that he was GAY (Arthur had spelled it out many times for him, he’d even tried to appear in Gay Times once but Uther had gotten hold of it before it could go to print – shame really, he had looked damn fine with that few clothes on) and that he was or had been in a very strong relationship with another guy. Obviously not it seemed. He couldn’t quite believe that after all this time, after he had fucking married Merlin, that Uther didn’t accept it as anything significant. He’d had an amazing wedding day, granted Uther hadn’t been there because of what he had called “urgent business” but it seemed now that he just didn’t want to go at all, and everything had been wonderful. He had seen during the chat when Uther glanced down at his neck and saw the two bands hanging there, and he definitely hadn’t missed the look of rage that had flicked behind his eyes.
  3. That Uther thought he was delusional and the whole trip had been a charade. It was obvious that Uther thought he had planned the whole trip just for the attention. And he hadn’t got it into his thick skull that actually Arthur didn’t want attention, he just wanted to be closer to his husband again, and he couldn’t get that into his head because he still didn’t believe that Arthur had ever even had a husband! He had marched in acting as if he were a child and demanded that he came home because he had been a very naughty boy and shouldn’t have worried daddy like that. He’d been humiliated in front of the people he was technically working for
  4. Paulo was fucking scary. For such a small man he really had a fiery temper that was waiting to explode. Either that or he was just very protective over the people he cared for. Although that was a nice feeling, that meant that Paulo cared for him in at least some respects and if everything went bat shit crazy at home when he returned then he could always come back here and change his name to Mario and lead a double life. Okay, now he was just getting carried away. But the point still stood that he had at last found himself a proper father figure who was pleased with him and loved him in his own mental Spanish way. It also meant that he now had a way of standing up to his father, through Paulo. He’d never seen Uther look quite so taken aback and it was rather funny to watch back in his mind, even if his mind’s eye altered the truth a little bit to make it funnier.



When the listing was pretty much over with, Arthur set to work on the tap. It was easy just to take his mind of what was going on. Heaven knows what Paulo was now up to, or Lucia come to think of it – she could probably be as scary as Paulo when it came down to it. At least it wasn’t going to be him on the end of their rage any time soon, hopefully they would take it out on Uther. Hopefully… fingers crossed.

~*~

As a matter of fact, when Arthur stormed out Paulo’s arms fell down and his shoulders visibly relaxed.  
“You are doing a bad thing, Mr Pendragon” he said, his voice calmer and he was more or less back to his usual self “Arthur is nice boy who is very sad. He does not need you making him sad too”  
“You have no right to comment on the relationship I have with my son”  
“I have every right, Mr Pendragon. Arthur has been good to me and I have grown fond of him, I need to know he is safe”  
“He is always safe with me”  
“You hit him, Mr Pendragon”  
Uther reeled “I was provoked! I will not accept such insolence from any child of mine”  
“He has never been rude before, this is first time I hear him say such things. He is only ever this passionate when he speaks of Merlin or something reminds him of Merlin. Please do not underestimate the love those boys shared. It is stronger than you can ever see, Pendragon, because you are blind by hate”  
“There was never a marriage between my son and Merlin, it was a folly…”  
“Oh please, Uther” a female voice floated in, a very familiar voice  
“Morgana…” Uther whispered as she strode into the lobby, her bump visible under another new maxi dress and the diamond shining on her finger “What…”  
“I’ve never seen anyone love each other as much as those two did. You weren’t there at the wedding, maybe if you had been then you would have seen it”  
“Seen what? A stupid, fake marriage between two boys who did not understand a thing about what was best for them”  
“They were what was best for each other!” another voice joined the conversation, Gwaine had finally followed Morgana through the doors having paid the taxi “We heard what you were coming over here to do so we followed you to stop you” he added with a grin as he came to stand protectively beside Morgana “But I’ll have you know, if he is going anywhere, he is coming with us. I cannot deal with the wedding planning and house redecorating on my own”  
Uther started to speak but then stopped, shock riddled all over his face. Then suddenly, he turned and ran. Up the stairs towards Arthur’s room. Gwaine was hot on his tail, seeing instantly what was about to happen and his previous military training kicking in. Uther was looking for the letters. He was going to destroy them.

They both reached the room at the same time. The door had been left unlocked because Arthur trusted the people in this hotel and he knew they wouldn’t touch his belongings and Uther shoved his way through the door.   
“UTHER STOP” Gwaine cried, grabbing onto him as he made a dash for Arthur’s bag “UTHER this is stupid! Stop! You’re only going to lose him AND MORGANA, you fool! And don’t tell me you don’t need them because I know that isn’t true and so do you! STOP FIGHTING ME, UTHER! You destroy those letters and you destroy your family! You will never have him back if you do that. It’ll be like losing Ygraine all over again” and at those words Uther stopped struggling. Yes he was still ridiculous tense, all his muscles taught and ready to pounce as soon as Gwaine let go. Gwaine did not let go “You don’t want that, Uther. I know you don’t” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper.  
Morgana had appeared in the doorway, Paulo standing look out behind her to make sure Arthur was kept out of harm’s way.  
“If I let you go, Uther, will you stop fighting?” When Uther didn’t respond he repeated “Will you stop fighting? It’s a simple question. If you agree and stay by your word I will let you go and we can discuss this. All of us can have a nice cold drink and get all our misconceptions out in the open and dealt with. If you don’t agree to this,” and his voice was still reasonably calm – Morgana felt her heart swell with pride at the ease Gwaine coped with her overbearing father “I will personally escort you out of this hotel and lock all the doors on the way out. You will never see either of your children again, nor the grandchildren that my fiancé is carrying”   
It was then that Uther nodded, a slight tilt of the head that was his submission. Gwaine released him, his whole body on red alert.  
“Morgana, my love, go fetch Arthur from underneath the kitchen sink and bring him to us. We’ll be waiting in the dining hall, if that’s alright Paulo?”  
“Perfect, Sir…?”  
“Gwaine” He replied with a smile “Just Gwaine, no Sir Gwaine nonsense, eh?” and he winked at Paulo as he followed Uther down to the hall. Underneath his breath he added to Morgana “No need to tell Arthur about this whole shenanigan yeah?” and she nodded in absolute agreement before turning to go and seek her brother.

She found him lying under the sink – just where she expected him to be.   
“Good morning, Arthur” she said quietly with a small smile toying with her lips. She winced when she heard the bang of him sitting up too suddenly and forgetting where he was “Please don’t hurt yourself”  
“Mor… Morgana?” he spluttered, pulling himself out with his spanner still in his hand and a screwdriver between his teeth. Flinging them aside he jumped up and pulled her to him “What on Earth are you doing here!? I thought you weren’t going to be travelling very far for a while and I just…”  
“Shush now, Arthur” she interrupted with a smile “If you come with me all this nonsense with your father will be sorted out and I will explain why Gwaine and I are here” and she took him by the hand, pulling him in the direction of the dining hall she had spotted on her way in (always spot where you will be eating before you get to settled was pretty much Morgana’s life motto these days, pregnancy makes one exceptionally hungry).

It was hugely awkward when they walked into the room. Gwaine was bristling with anticipation and would flinch every time Uther so much as blinked. Uther for his part was exceptionally calm. He had straightened his collar from where Gwaine had wrestled with him and the only sign of their struggle were the new creases that had appeared in his shirt. It seemed though that Arthur didn’t notice, or that he chose not to, either way Gwaine settled a little bit.  
“Hey, mate” he said with a smile “Got yourself a bit of a nice set up here”  
Arthur chuckled “Yeah, it’s one hell of a nice place. How you doing, my man?”  
“Wedding planning is a painful business as is completely redoing our entire house to make it baby safe” he saw Arthur’s panicked glance at Uther “If he hasn’t picked it up by now I would have counted him as a complete prat, as it is, he is only a little one”  
“You learnt that word from Merlin” Arthur said softly, more to himself that to anyone else as he sat down opposite his father. “So… care to explain why you two turned up out of the blue?”  
“Well…” Gwaine started  
“Oh please, Gwaine dear, you know this was my plan all along! Let me explain” Gwaine rolled his eyes and made and exasperated motion with his hands and Arthur had to supress a giggle as Morgana glared at him “We heard that our insane father was on the war path. Vivian mentioned that he had been particularly horrible that week in the office and I thought it was all a bit suspicious. I was then informed by another member of staff – not telling you who, Mr Grumpy would kill them – that father was off on holiday somewhere that hadn’t been declared as a business meeting. And that, I tell you now, set of every alarm I have installed in my head and I needed to find out what he was up to. Anyway, to cut a long story short I found he has been tracking you since you left and was heading to find you here in Spain. I got home as fast as I could and begged Gwaine to let us go before you two ended everything you had ever had between you and voila! Here we are! We walk in to hear Uther raving on about you marriage to dear Paulo who seems to have been unwittingly caught up in this family feud and now we’ve all ended up sat around this quaint little wooden table” and finally she paused for breath.   
Uther was now fuming, Gwaine was grinning at how wonderful his Morgana is and Arthur’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish.  
“I’m not going home with you, father. Just saying that now. Whatever tasks I have left to do will be completed and I am not going back on that whether you like it or not”  
Uther didn’t say anything.  
“I really did love Merlin, father. That was no folly, no charade, no childish game to wind you up. He was the best thing that could have happened to me and he made my life so much better, so much more worthwhile just by being there for me. I thought… I thought you could understand that. You loved my mother did you not?”  
“I’ve never stopped loving her” he whispered, his voice cracking.  
“And I will never stop loving Merlin” he stopped, taking a deep breath before he could carry on “We both lost them before their time. We both wish that we had been in their place because they deserved to live far more than we did. We both carry the same burdens. Why can’t you see that?” there was sniff from where Morgana was sitting, and in the corner of his eye he saw Gwaine pass her a tissue then snake his arm around her middle. But he never once broke eye contact with his father “Please, father, please tell me you understand?”  
There was a lapse in noise, like the whole world was holding its breath as it waited for Uther’s response “I never did before, but maybe I am beginning to now” he sighed, taking a sip of his lemonade that had been snuck out the cupboard “What more have you been up to on this trip then? And what else is there to come?”  
And thus came the retelling the story of most of his adventures – he wouldn’t mention what happened in Thailand again to anyone. Morgana had squeezed his hand when that point in the tale came, a gesture to show that he was alright, that everything was going to be okay.   
It was then Morgana’s turn to update Uther on everything that had been going on, and they had a lot of catching up to do. Over the years, numerous events had caused their relationship to repeatedly hit the rocks until the ship was on the verge of sinking. Every little detail of Morgana’s life was told round the table (thankfully not their sex life though, that would have been awkward) and everything was beginning to look better than it had before.   
Even Uther, with his shrouded exterior and heart of steel began to laugh and smile with them. He shared his experiences with Gwaine of when Arthur and Morgana were born and how the mother’s had stressed themselves just like Morgana was. He spoke fondly of Ygraine, with more love and compassion in his eyes than he had ever shown before. By the end of the day everyone was so much happier than when they had started.   
From the doorway, Paulo smiled. They would be okay, the Pendragon’s. He could see that despite all of their faults they really were a good bunch and they would make it through the hard times that had just played out before his very eyes.

When the story telling was over, Uther, Morgana and Gwaine went to find themselves rooms in the hotel. They were to stay on for a holiday, building up their relationships again in a new environment free of the pressures of the people who thought they knew them. Paulo had even said they could stay free of charge which was really nice of him, but Arthur vowed to himself that he would carry on with the work on the hotel till he had to leave in order to repay him for his kindness. Arthur knew it was nearly time to open the next letter. There were few left and he was terrified of them ending. Terrified of what was to become of him when everything about Merlin’s being was completely gone forever save for a few scarce memories and letters.

 


	8. An Innocent(ish) Stag Do

It had been nice, Spain had. He’d rebuilt bridges and learned more about his family in the last week than he had done in his lifetime. But it was nearing the end of his stay. It was nearing October and Morgana and Gwaine needed to be home soon in order to prepare for the wedding and the babies.

One warm evening he sat alone on his balcony and opened another envelope. There were only two left in the package, which was strange because he was sure there should have been three. But he came to the conclusion that Merlin would know what he was doing (hopefully) and that there would be enough letters, he couldn’t bear it if Merlin went back on this final promise.

The envelope was pretty much completely blank this time, and the hand writing wasn’t as nice as it had been or what it should have been. He could see the weariness that had been overcoming his dear Merlin in those last few weeks. He could feel it draining through the letters that stood out bold and clear on the page. There was no room for fanciness anymore, no room for ornate drawings that would have taken him hours, just enough detail to get across his message and nothing more. A fading flower, drooping slightly but fighting on to survive just that little while longer – that’s what Merlin had been.

_Dear Arthur,_

_These final letters are to be shorter than the others I’m afraid. I can’t really cope with this much exertion anymore, which is pretty upsetting if I’m honest._

_Now this letter is written hoping that my prediction will come true. If I am correct Gwaine will have proposed to Morgana whilst you were away and they will now be planning their wedding. I am also predicting that it is around July or August time, meaning that my plans will all fall into place. These plans should help get you back into your family life again, as well as getting you to meet new people and learn new things in the process._

_I’ve pretty much planned Gwaine’s stag night for him, I hope he doesn’t mind. I’ve also kept it reasonably low key so that Morgana doesn’t throw a hissy fit which knowing her is quite likely if there is too much rowdy boyish nonsense involved. There are no strippers, no sluts, no other stupid stunts (at least, that’s the plan), just a load of getting drunk._

  1. _Get Gwaine to Holland – I don’t care how, just do it_
  2. _You have 4 tickets to the Beer festival inside that little envelope of wonders_
  3. _Take him there and have some fun. Oh, and take two of your/his mates and just go wild._



_Just promise me you will keep yourself safe and to keep him safe._

_I supposed I should have backup plan in place for if this one is a complete flop and Gwaine hasn’t got his head out of his arse and proposed to the gorgeous girl who is basically his already._

_This is actually rather difficult. I seem to be under the impression that life will plan out exactly the way I want it to. I mean, there is no way of me knowing whether you will follow these letters, or whether the time taken for each thing will be what I expect, that everything will run smoothly and there will be no interruptions. I guess it is a lot to hope for, that the world will always turn the same way, turning through the years without anyone doing anything wrong or unplanned. But I guess we never fully understand the consequences of tiny motions and movements before it is too late. How one wrong move can knock the whole world onto a different course and alter the path that the universe follows. There is so much out there that could change at the drop of a hat._

_Sorry I’m blathering and it’s exceptionally tiring to do so. I should stop. But this will be it really, Arthur. There’s not much left of me. I can barely breathe on my own; I can barely speak to you, so all I have is the written word. I miss being able to tell you things aloud. I’m encased in my own mind, unable to break free from this cage of captivity._

_If I could speak I’d say I love you. I’d tell you a thousand times over and it still wouldn’t be enough. So maybe to end with I’ll quote you one of the first love quotes we found together, and I think that now it fits perfectly._

_“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you”_

_And of course I am not saying I wish you die tomorrow, I am saying I am glad. Because I have never had to live a day without you, my dearest and closest friend and love. I thought our time would last a hundred years and it did certainly seem like that. For love makes time slip slowly by, I was able to love you and for that I am grateful._

_Yours always and forever_

_M x_

Arthur brushed away a tear and stared out into the endless night. The stars were glistening on the black velvet sky and Arthur wished Merlin could be there to see it too. For once he saw the world completely as it was. A place where time and cause and consequence were all in flux, and the nature of his and everyone else’s existence depended on an infinite number of possibilities. And it made him wonder what had really led him to this place. Had something somewhere decided his fate and set him on this course, or had it been entirely of his own making? He was met with a thundering silence of answers to questions he was so desperate to have answered and he almost screamed in agony at his internal torture. Mingled in amongst the agony was the endless sense of longing to go somewhere and be someone else, and maybe not even because he wanted to but because it was possible. He could keep running like this forever, never knowing where to go next just hoping that there was a something somewhere to guide him down the right path and to not let him get hurt.

And it was there he sat for over two hours, the only noise to great him was the sound of the people bustling in the market square a few roads away. The tops of the houses were lay out before him like picnic blankets and it all seemed so endless. He cried again. More than he had been doing in the recent weeks and months because it was as if his whole sense of being was now under threat. The letter had seemed to be Merlin’s last main goodbye. That his next letter was to be shorter and swifter than this and it was horrific to even contemplate.

After two hours there was a soft knock at his door and Morgana let herself in. Her eyes flickered to the letter that was sitting on the desk but she said nothing. She looked calm and relaxed, radiating a certain kind of happiness that could only come from someone as fortunate as her. She took his hand in hers but made no eye contact which was nice. She joined him in gazing out across the distance and waited for him to speak, knowing, as she always did, that he would come to her when he was ready.

In the end he said “You should read the tasks, see what you think.” And then as Morgana reached for it he added “Just the tasks though, yeah? The rest of it…”  
“Is kind of personal?” she finished for him with a faint smile “Of course, Arthur.” And she picked it up and began to read.

Arthur didn’t watch her. If she was going to read the whole thing she was going to read it and there was nothing he could do to stop her so he just continued with his star gazing, marvelling at their exquisite beauty and how wonderful it was that they could be viewed this way even from so many millions of light years away.

A sigh came from Morgana as she set the letter back down on the table a minute later,  
“Either your Merlin possessed magic powers or Gwaine has been planning to propose just a bit longer than he said he had.” She shook her head fondly “I’m not going to deny you this chance, Arthur. I mean, what’s the point?”  
“But what if…”  
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about the last time you got drunk and how badly it turned out. And I’ll tell you this, Gwaine will look after you. I’ll make him swear on his life that he will. You won’t be by yourself and it will be in a much more controlled environment.”  
“I can’t do that again…” he said, is voice wavering “I completely let him down, Morgana,” he whispered on the brink of tears “I remember that night. I couldn’t really but I do now and shit, Morgana, I cocked up,” and he broke down. He let the images surge through him like an angry mob that was beating at his skull even when he couldn’t take it anymore “I hate what I did and I hate who I became because of it.”  
Morgana didn’t say anything for a moment. Her eyes were darkened by shadow of the night, the faintest glow hitting her cheeks from the lamp in his room which he had forgotten to switch off. “You cocked up, I won’t disagree. But think about it, Arthur, Merlin told you to get pissed and you did. I’m not telling you what you should or should not have done because that would be very hypocritical. And thinking now of what it felt like when Gwaine…” she stopped, her gaze falling and her tone becoming uncertain. “I never told you this story; I thought you would kill him. And you still might, I guess, but I might as well tell you anyway, you know I love him far too much to hurt him.” She took a deep breath “When Gwaine and I first started dating, you can probably remember we both kind of joked around. Nothing was set in stone and nothing was really finalised. I stuck by him, I thought we were truly dating but Gwaine didn’t see it that way at the time and he went and had a one night stand with another girl. It hurt me, yeah, but you know what? People make mistakes. And I think that’s what Merlin was trying to show you. You have always been the perfect angel of the Lord husband, and I think Merlin pushed you into rebelling because he knew you would never do anything of your own accord. Arthur, look at me,” and as Arthur turned his head she could see the conflicting emotions pulsing through his head “The world hasn’t ended, you haven’t changed. The world will keep on turning and you will keep on living. Don’t you worry yourself anymore, what’s done is done and a word spoken cannot be unsaid.”  
There was a faint splash of water on metal, a tear falling from Arthur’s cheek onto the railing he had leant forward onto “You always know how to say the right thing,” he said softly “You’re going to make a great mum” and he began to chuckle “Just… don’t abandon me, please.” He added under his voice, expecting her not to here but she did, as always. Before he could brace himself he was engulfed in a huge hug.  
“I would never abandon you, Arthur Pendragon. You’re my brother, alright? I’ll stick with you till beyond the grave.”  
“Nice choice of words.”  
“Oh fuck shit,” she gasped “Sorry, Arthur, you know I didn’t mean it like that I totally didn’t mean to say it in that way I just thought…”  
“I was joking, Morgana.”  
Pulling away, she slapped his shoulder playfully “You’ll always be my brother, and that’s a promise. Nothing you can do will change that.”  
“So you’re saying yes to the stag do?”  
“I’m just ashamed the list didn’t include anything for my hen night.”  
“Yeah well, you can’t have everything,” and he grinned at her “By the way, you don’t happen to have found one of my letters by any chance? An unopened one? I mean, they’ve all been in order and everything but there’s one missing and I don’t understand what could have happened and if I’m honest I really don’t want to have lost it.”  
“Don’t worry, Arthur, you will find out what is going on soon enough” and with that final statement she swept out the room just the way she always did, with more style than Arthur had ever possessed.  
“Fan-fucking-tasitc,” he muttered to himself under his breath “So Morgana knows something that I don’t, like that doesn’t always end in disaster… thanks Merlin!” he shouted out to the sky. Then he laughed, harder than he had done in months. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, and how much things had changed. He laughed at how wonderfully horrible the world had become and how happily cruel it could turn out to be without even a change in the weather.

He turned in to bed at around midnight. The cold night air still tingled on his skin as he stripped down to his boxers and lay on top of his covers without the intention of falling asleep.  Instead he allowed memories to play back to him; from the love to the hate, from the laughter to the tears. He fell asleep laughing at the ridiculousness of some of the memories. Pictures floating back to him of him and Merlin in Disneyland and the great big grin that had been plastered onto his face the whole time, of Merlin trying to eat an ice cream that was bigger than his head, but had drifted off before the memory could cement itself into his long term memory for safe keeping.  
He slept like he hadn’t slept in a while. He was mending, slowly but surely. The hole in his heart would never fully heal but there were stiches beginning to appear in the form of his family, holding him together during the hardest days of his life. He was still loved by someone, and that meant the world. To lose who you thought was the only person who thought anything of you and then to believe that you had no one had to be the hardest thing Arthur had ever had to face. Yet now he knew he wasn’t alone he knew he could do anything he wanted because people would be there to back him up if all went to hell afterwards – and maybe he’d even find someone who would go into the pits of hell with him, just like Merlin had once done. But this was all a long way off yet, he had other things to think about before any of that came along.

The morning sun greeted him through the undrawn curtains and signified a brand new day. He could hear a lady singing somewhere and he knew it was Lucia without even thinking – for one thing she had the voice of an angel, and two it couldn’t have been Morgana because Morgana sounded like a dying cat whenever she attempted to pour her heart and soul into any song no matter what genre.  The world was smiling at him, happy that he was there and welcoming his presence on its surface. He carried on with his normal morning routine like he always did; it was simply easier that way. Lucia would bring him breakfast and he could chat with her about everything and nothing, telling her his life whilst she told him hers and they began to realise that they were one the same. Lucia had lost her husband – all be it at a much older age – but the pain was still there. When she described it, it was a severe sense of loss and longing, like losing a limb – he should be there with her but he just wasn’t. And when Arthur did the same, she could see that his sorrow was partly based on anger, on losing Merlin before their time. They learnt a lot from each other, more than they ever realised; finding comfort and solace in an almost complete stranger.

And so the routine passed him by just the same as always. By 11 o’clock he was downstairs eating an apple in the kitchen and waiting for Paulo. That had also become a habit, there would be something for him to do in the hotel and he might as well just get it done before he settled himself down to the task of informing Gwaine of his impending stag do.

After nearly 20 minutes, Paulo bustled in muttering his apologies and dumping a large box on the table in front of him. Arthur winced at the bang and hoped the rackety wooden table would be able to withstand such a battering.  
“Well, Arthur,” he said, his breath coming out in little puffs “Good morning to you, I hope you had nice sleep.”  
“It was lovely, thanks,” he replied with a beam “One of the best night’s sleep I have had in ages.”  
“That is good to hear, Arthur, very good. Now, today can you build this for me, please? It’s a new wooden table to stay here in the kitchen, but I cannot read English instructions. You do good job fast, you can go out with family earlier today, yes?”  
“Yes, sir.” Arthur said with a cheeky grin and a fake salute.  
“You’re a naughty boy, Arthur Pendragon!” he scolded playfully, a glint in his eye and no menace in his words, “Now, I leave you to get on with it, if you need anything you get that Gwaine to help, he is far too lazy!”  
“Oi!” a cry came from the doorway, “That’s not very nice, Paulo! I have done my bit.”  
“Ah, but not as much as Arthur.” And he bumbled out of the room.  
“The cheek of it!” Gwaine laughed as he came in, “Want a hand?”  
“Nah, I should be alright. It’s only an IKEA table.” His breath caught in his throat for a moment, remembering suddenly the first letter and the disastrous trip to IKEA and he turned to get himself some water in the vain hope that Gwaine hadn’t noticed. Though it seemed he had been spending far too much time with Morgana for him to get away with it.  
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, showing a rare sense of controlled compassion – maybe this was the Gwaine Morgana got all the time and he just hated showing it to anyone else “You were with Morgana a lot last night and I guessed that meant you were…”  
“Yeah,” Arthur interrupted, gulping the whole glass of water down in one “I opened the letter.” He rasped out, coughing for a moment because he should not have downed that glass in one go like that “It was… interesting yeah. Did Morgana tell you anything…”  
“Not a peep, she knows when to keep a secret and when to share.”  
“Right… well on the bright side, Merlin planned your stag do for you. On the downside, there seems to be a letter missing.”  
Gwaine beamed at him then and Arthur couldn’t quite figure out whether it was because of the stag do news or there was something else going on… but he dismissed it when Gwaine cried,  
“Waheey!! Where’s the stag do taking place then?”  
“The beer festival in Holland.” Arthur responded with a sigh, knowing already to brace himself.  
And he was right to do. A moment later Gwaine jumped on him pulling him into the most manly hug he could muster  
“You know what, that guy freakin’ knew me better than I do! What a fantastic idea! Why didn’t I think of that!?”  
“Because…” he paused, why didn’t Gwaine think of it? And then he realised, and replied quietly “Because that’s who Merlin was. The one who knew everything, what was good for you and what wasn’t so good.”  
And Gwaine stopped, stepping back from Arthur and saying simply “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through, Arthur. If I were to lose Morgana…”  
“You won’t, Gwaine, you look after her, you keep her safe and make sure she takes care of herself. That’s where Merlin went wrong, he took care of everyone else before he dealt with his own problems.” He sighed heavily, “At least in death he has taught me that sometimes people should be selfish sometimes, because maybe then a life will be saved.”  
“You’ve become madly wise, Arthur. It’s almost scary to witness.”  
Arthur shoved him “Piss off, tosser, let me get on with building this then we can plan the stag do.”

So Arthur spent the next two hours building then rebuilding (it went wrong the first time – IKEA furniture always does when you’re building it) Paulo’s new kitchen table and chairs, as well as adding a new table cloth which he bought himself and small vase of flowers just to top it off. He was glad Gwaine wasn’t there; otherwise he’d be accused of being sentimental or a wimp which he so obviously wasn’t. He just wanted everything to be right for Paulo and the little family he had found himself here, especially now he knew he would be moving on very soon.

And later that day, around a fabulous feast that Lucia had put out for them, Morgana, Arthur, Gwaine and Uther discussed the plans for Gwaine’s stag do.  
“So,” Arthur started, “I have four tickets to the beer festival in Holland. One each for me and Gwaine, Morgana isn’t coming because it’s a stag do, father?”  
“Aha, Arthur, I don’t think so. This is Gwaine’s moment and he should be spending it with his friends.”  
“I’m not really that close with anyone else though,” Gwaine contemplated, half thinking out loud, half thinking to himself, “I mean, I only really used to hang out with Arthur and Merlin and then when Arthur went off, my focus shifted to the wedding and looking out for Morgana. Any other friends I have had in the past have all drifted away or I’ve lost contact with them because I didn’t like them that much to begin with.”  
Morgana laughed, “You have Tristan and Elyan from the swimming club, and if you’re really desperate Cenred.”  
“I am not having Cenred at my stag do!” he cried in outrage, “Last time he visited our place he groped you! Groped, Morgana! He is not getting his filthy hands near you or our babies.” And he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms with a loud ‘humph’  
“Fine, not Cenred then,” Arthur said, forcing himself not to laugh in fear of Gwaine killing him, “What about Tristan and Elyan?”  
“You don’t even know Tristan.”  
“So what?” he said, “For one thing, it’s your stag do, and for another, I’ve met loads of people over the last few months, another one won’t hurt.”  
“He speaks the truth, Gwaine,” Uther said “And anyway, he knows how to deal with new people.”  
“I just don’t want him to fall out with someone and then ruin my stag do! That’s all.” Gwaine humphed again.  
“Oh!” Morgana cried, clapping her hands in glee, “I remember now why you’re trying to keep Tristan away!” at this point she burst into complete hysterics, “Tristan beat him in their bar crawl last year and he’s jealous, and now he’s going to get back at him by not letting him go the beer festival!”  
Gwaine didn’t say anything, merely sinking lower into his chair and running a hand through his hair. Arthur and Uther both joined in the laughter and Uther was the first to say anything.  
“I didn’t take you to be that much of a sore loser, Gwaine!”  
“Oi!” Gwaine yelled, “So you think I am a bit of a sore loser then!?”  
This just made Morgana cackle even more and the tears began to roll down Arthur’s cheeks.  
“Well you did nearly punch Arthur that time you lost the football match.”  
“That was one time!”  
“And the time you didn’t speak to me for a week because I beat you at monopoly by one pound.” Arthur piped in, still giggling.  
But Gwaine only responded with a scowl and a “Anyone for pudding?” as he left the table and headed towards the kitchen to help Lucia.

In the end they invited Elyan and Tristan because there really wasn’t anyone else to invite. The invitation got sent out with a note attached saying “Sorry it’s such short notice” because it was September 27th and they needed to get to Holland by the 2nd.

They spent their last days pretty much the same as they had been, although Gwaine and Morgana spent a bit more time together planning all kinds of ‘what if’ scenarios to do with the babies and such liked. It did give Arthur and Uther a chance to talk properly alone, in a way they had never really done before. Arthur was really pleased to hear that now Uther did actually believe that his marriage to Merlin had been genuine, and that maybe he really was old enough to make his own decisions on these sorts of matters. They also talked about Ygraine, and the feelings of guilt Uther had carried around for so many years. By the end of September they were both standing taller, a weight lifted from their shoulders and their feelings shared so the burden wasn’t so hard to carry.

On October 1st they all headed to the airport. There were a few tears on Morgana’s part, and a lot of hugging between everyone (though not between Gwaine and Arthur, that just wouldn’t have made sense). If Arthur was honest with himself, he didn’t understand why they were flying to Holland when he was sure a train would be easier and cheaper, but Gwaine was paying so he didn’t complain. They only ended up departing when Uther swore on his life that he would protect Morgana and the babies even if it meant killing himself in the process, to which Morgana and Arthur exchanged a look of _well fuck me sideways, I didn’t know he was so over protective._

The plane journey was a laugh. So much better than some of his previous ones had been. They played card games instead of watching the film, it was only a short flight and they couldn’t be bothered with all the hoo ha about what to watch otherwise they would never finish the film at all. Arthur simply wasn’t given the opportunity to wallow in his misery as he had done in his last journey’s – the one to Australia reminding him completely of what had changed over the last many months.

Stepping off the plane was nothing out of the ordinary; he’d done it enough times now. Gwaine was like an excitable puppy that had been let of his leash and was happily dancing around, reading signs in a terrible Dutch accent, playing with the suitcase trolley and just generally being a bit of a prat; but Arthur didn’t care. He let Gwaine muck around whilst he stood with the sign for Elyan and Tristan despite the fact Gwaine had designed it so it read ‘ **PROPERTY OF GWAINE ORKNEY, STAG DO HOST** ’ and Arthur was trying not to die of shame. It was funny watching him act so excited, and it made him wonder why he had never had that much glee when he stepped of the plane in Australia. Maybe it was because Gwaine was excited to not be under Morgana’s control for a week, or maybe he had just never realised the extent of his despair.

Tristan and Elyan’s plane landed an hour after theirs did. It wasn’t too long to wait but around half way through Gwaine had walked off into a shop and disappeared for twenty minutes, coming back to Arthur later with a bemused look on his face and a pineapple in his hand.  
“I didn’t even want a fucking pineapple, I went in there to get a bottle of water.”  
“Did you get one?”  
“No! They gave me a pineapple instead.”  
Arthur had just shook his head wearily, thankful for the arrival of the two other men who could hopefully take Gwaine off his hands for a while.

In the cab they made all their introductions. Gwaine was too busy laughing at something with Elyan to notice the slight amount of awkwardness that had arisen between Arthur and Tristan. But when the topic of conversation had turned to football, and the other two had got back involved again, they were all fine and dandy. Arthur began to catch up on all the footie news he had missed – and he began to think about whether he actually wanted to know about the premier sides at all. He wouldn’t tell any of them this, but he felt like he really didn’t give a shit. He still loved playing the game and working out the tactics, but listening to people go on about how well Rooney was doing or where Renaldo had moved to now was just a bit boring.  
But when the flow of chatter moved onto what Arthur had been up to, he found himself miles out of his comfort zone yet sitting in his element at the same time. He didn’t want to tell them everything – the image of Mordred still a pressing devil in his mind – but he told them all the things they would find cool and everything that he had loved doing. Elyan seemed to enjoy his tales, which was really nice of him, but Tristan seemed disinterested. Pretending not to notice the angry looks Gwaine kept sending Tristan’s way, Arthur just carried on as if nothing was happening and that he was just happy to be telling these almost complete strangers everything.

Arriving at the hotel was nothing out of the ordinary either. Another new receptionist, another new hotel manager, another new room, another new this, another new that: it was all terribly boring. Add to that three other rowdy blokes, one of whom seemed to have taken an immediate disliking to Arthur and everything just felt wrong. He longed for a nice long shower – he still hadn’t got over his addiction to cold showers – a reread of Merlin’s latest letter and a rummage through his bag to see if he could find the missing one. But Gwaine was having none of it. He was now under the impression that his stag do meant his rules. And rule one was “No moping about” he had said looking pointedly at Arthur who was scowling at him.  
So they shared two rooms, Tristan and Elyan taking one and Gwaine and Arthur taking the one next door (God help him), because it was obvious that they should save money on room space so they could get more beer. Gwaine then hogged the bathroom for a good hour and a  half, Arthur didn’t even want to know what he was doing in there; and he hid Arthur’s bag from him so he couldn’t look for the last letter nor read the other one. He was then forced into a mandatory game of cards with everyone and wasn’t even allowed to leave when he began to lose every single hand he was dealt (and okay so he was doing it on purpose but he thought Gwaine would have shown him some mercy if he was being this rubbish). Yet it seemed Gwaine was on a mission to make the most of every minute of freedom possible, no matter how much the people around him just wanted some sleep.  
They finally turned in around one o’clock in the morning. Gwaine was still chatting away cheerily as Arthur slipped under the covers, hoping to get some sleep. It was much cooler in Holland than it had been in any of the other places he had been – even France had been beautiful despite of the time of year. The duvet was soft and welcoming, made for comfort rather than looks. He was more than happy to just curl into a ball and cry himself to sleep, the way he had done many a night since Merlin’s passing. It would have worked to, he’d have been so much better in the morning, so much happier if he had just had this chance to get it all out of his system, but Gwaine continued to talk, not even allowing Arthur to stop and think. Eventually, the tears fell anyway. Silent tears, like he had taught himself to do as a child because there was no point in screaming for his father would never come. And then Gwaine fell asleep, very suddenly and midsentence and the whole world seemed too quiet and too still. He was a mix of so many emotions he couldn’t keep track. Annoyed with Gwaine for taking away his back, angry at Tristan for judging him before they had met, upset that Merlin had sent him here when it was one of the last places he wanted to be. And most of all, he was lonely. To watch the three swimmers get on so well and talk about things he could never understand was just so infuriating because he _should_ be able to join in but he just couldn’t. It was four o’clock in the morning before he got to sleep.

None of them woke up till well into the afternoon anyway. They had missed the start of the festival but that didn’t seem to matter too much, everyone was already too drunk to notice. And from then on it was simply drink after drink after drink until the number they had had was lost and it just became “Do you want another one?” (or really “D’u wan ‘nother ne” because they really couldn’t keep that much drink down). They were surrounded by men who were drinking and singing merrily, and it was easy to become lost in the crowd. It was exhilarating and sickening, he would try and follow the lines of a Dutch folk song and change into Bohemian Rhapsody half way through without even a second thought to how they reached that point. It was all so easy. You pay once and you’re in for the whole day with as much beer as you can handle.  
He had lost Gwaine and the others quite a few hours ago and had been hanging with some random Dutch guys when they offered him some cannabis. He was drunk and completely free from any responsibility so he smoked some. It was great, he had never felt so high in all his life. Suddenly everyone was a unicorn or a pretty pony, everything was ten times funnier than it should be and he just could not stop laughing. He spent hours with the same guys, just smoking and laughing because why the fuck not?

At 4 o’clock in the morning he staggered back to their hotel room; high, dizzy and delirious. The world was spinning before his eyes and the stars were dancing. It was beautiful. He hiccoughed as he tried to get the door key in the lock, then missed the key hole by a few inches so he tried again. After the seventh unsuccessful try the door flew open and he cried  
“GWAINE!... oh, that hurt, I’ll keep the volume down,” as he noticed Gwaine’s wince “You are gorgeous, you know that right? If you weren’t gonna marry Morg *hiccough* Morgana, I would marry you myself.”  
“Get inside you tosser, you’ll wake everyone up in a minute.”  
Arthur giggled, “Ooh, Gwaine, you shouldn’t.”  
“I’m saving your ass, Pendragon, now get in here.” And he pulled him inside.  
Gwaine started choking when he brushed past him, “Have you been fucking smoking?! Arthur!? You’ve fucking smoked cannabis, Jesus fucking Christ!”  
Arthur giggled again, “Yeah, and now everything is rainbows and pretty ponies, yeah.”  
There was no response just a clatter as Gwaine got a glass down from the cupboard to get him some water.  
“I’d get you some paracetamol but I don’t have a fucking clue how that goes with cannabis and what the fuck you’re supposed to do at all with someone on cannabis, you absolute fucking twat!”  
“Hey! Lighten up, Gwainie-poo! It can’t be that bad! I feel great!”  
“You won’t in the morning,” Gwaine muttered “I thought we all agreed, one proper beer then that kind of half stuff they were selling which was actually really good!? What happened to you!?”  
“To be honest *hiccough* I don’t have a clue. I remember… a ginger guy with a really cool moustache, a waiter with a lovely arse and then some fat bald bloke offering me a joint and I thought *hiccough* what the heck!?” he grinned… well attempted to grin, it was rather scarier than he was hoping for.  
“Morgana is gonna fucking murder me when she hears about this! I guess tomorrow I’m gonna have to spend a whole day looking after you while you try not to choke on your own vomit.”  
“I’ll be all good, mate, I’m just gonna go to bed and have a nice sleep. And in the morning everything will be right again, yeah?”  
“If you say so, mate. The only problem with your plan is that it is already the morning and everything is certainly not alright or do you mean Wednesday morning not Tuesday morning?” he turned to look at Arthur when there was no response and he was dead to the world and snoring his head off on his bed, fully clothed with his shoes still on “You’re fucked, dude.” He muttered, shaking his head. The glass of water was left by his bedside table as Gwaine settled back under his covers where he had been happily sleeping until Arthur had come along.

Gwaine awoke just before midday. The sun was shining through the half draw curtains and for a moment everything was blissfully quiet. Then the snoring started again. A deep rumble that came from far in Arthur’s chest and snorted out through his open lips. As Gwaine rolled over, he could see the pool of drool that had formed in the hours Arthur had been asleep in the same position, still fully clothed and without even a hint of waking anytime soon.  
He made himself breakfast because he had missed the hotel one, hoping that the smell of toast and bacon would stir Arthur from his slumber. That didn’t work. He had a shower until the hot water ran out, singing at the top of his voice in an attempt to rouse the comatose Arthur. That didn’t work either. He tried opening ever cupboard and slamming them shut. He tried turning on both taps to full use until the pipes threatened to burst with the vast volumes of water that were pumping through them. And yet none of it worked.  
In the end, Elyan and Tristan came over. He told them the pitiful story of Arthur’s drunken/stoned escapades and they decided together to just leave him to sleep it off, for it wouldn’t matter if he missed just one day. They taped a quick note to the glass of water telling him they’d gone for another days drinking but to not leave the hotel room. They left him one paracetamol tablet – Elyan had Googled it said it would be fine if he had slept most of the cannabis out of his system. And then they just walked out, none of them wishing to deal with how grumpy and grogy Arthur would be when he woke up.

As it was, Arthur woke up at 4 in the afternoon. There was a whistling noise coming from somewhere that he couldn’t place (eventually he decided it must just be in his head and he had completely lost it) and the stench from his smoke filled clothes was making him choke. His eyes opened slowly, his eyelids heavy and his head screaming at him not to move. He knew he had to, had to get out of the clothes and into the shower. His blurred vision could just about make out the note the boys had left him and he attempted to laugh when they though he would actually want to move let alone leave the room.  
It was another hour before he could drag himself up and out of bed, stumbling into the shower to find only the remnants of the hot water Gwaine had left him. He drank the water, followed by another three glasses to try and get the vile taste out of his mouth, and when that didn’t work he brushed his teeth five times until his mouth was burning at the overly-refreshing minty taste. He chucked his clothes in the bath tub along with some fabric conditioner they had brought along, allowing them to stop sticking so badly. Out of kindness he washed all of Gwaine’s clothes too, remembering with a wince how awful he had been to him the night before.  
God he had been such an idiot! Why did he let himself get stoned when he knew he was a lightweight drinker!? Come to think of it, why didn’t he even let himself get so drunk!? He changed all his sheets then collapsed onto his bed wearing just his pants (and only them in case the boys came back and didn’t want his nuts on full show). He felt mildly better, his head wasn’t pulsating as much, he didn’t feel like he was going to vomit anymore and he just needed sleep.  
So that’s what he did. He slept for another four hours until the boys came back, singing a song about a sailor he knew he should know but he couldn’t place it.

They had a laugh that night, none of them wanting to go to bed. They played cards and chess with a random box that had been left in the hotel room by its previous occupants.

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Arthur didn’t drink half as much as the others in fear of finding those guys again who would get him stoned. He became the sensible one who would look after them in their times of need and hardship, helping them home because no one else would. Hopefully this would mean Morgana would forgive him for taking cannabis on the first night. If not… well he was fucked. She would kill him as soon as she could lay her claws on him and that would be that.

The beer festival was certainly one to remember. There were late night conversations with Gwaine where he would lament on and on about how scared he was about becoming a father, and wishing he wasn’t going to let Morgana down when he had convinced himself he would. Arthur even managed to befriend Tristan by the end of the week when he offered to mop up the pile of vomit Elyan had left in the middle of their bathroom (that definitely was _not_ the highlight of the whole trip). In all, it left them feeling horrific but amazing at the same time. None of them could place into words what it was really like!

On the final day they all made a pact.  
“What happened at the beer festival,” Gwaine said.  
“Stays at the beer festival.” Arthur finished  
“Fucked if I remember any of it anyway.” Elyan added, shaking his head in bewilderment.  
“Seconded.” Tristan finished “Never are we to speak of these events to anyone but each other… and especially NOT to Morgana!”


	9. Home Is Where The Heart Is

Arthur finished packing his things before the others had even started. He had folded on his hand of cards in the first round knowing that he was going to lose no matter what happened and he might as well not waste anymore of his time and money. He took his bottle of beer into his room, leaving the boys to settle their dispute in Elyan and Tristan’s room.

Locking the door behind him (he’d taken Gwaine’s key too just to be on the safe side) he settled him down on his bed for what seemed to be his final letter.

_A,_

_I’m really struggling here and I’m so sorry to have to be so brief. I think you’re wondering why this is the last letter you own, and that’s because someone else has the last letter for them to give you when the time is right – and trust me, that time will come soon._

_So the time has come,_

  1. _Head home, Arthur. Get back on a plane to England and get back to our house_
  2. _Tidy out my clothes and other stuff I no longer need and either dispose of it or chuck it into the loft_
  3. _Re-decorate a room, buy something new, put up more photos – just for God’s sake, make the house your space_



_This is it I’m afraid. This is me. Over and out *mock salute*_

_All my love,_

_M x_

It was as if there was nothing left. Merlin had given all that he could give and there simply wasn’t any more that he could pour out. His strength had gone, and all it achieved was bringing back the tidal wave of sadness that he had felt the day that Merlin finally slipped. When the light faded from Merlin’s eyes and as the machine stopped beeping, Arthur had collapsed. And this letter just felt the same. As if he had been grasping at straws to try and string together enough words for it to even be worth it. The pain and suffering that was leaking through the page with each passing letter and syllable was too much. 

It hurt, to be so close to the end of the epic journey. He knew more about himself now than he ever had done before, he had grown as a person and was better for being away. Yet he felt like it was his time to return home. He knew he had made promises, and he would stick to them. He would go back to Marramarra and live with his new friends there, he would keep revisiting Paulo and Percival and all of the people he knew. But there was time for that later, now he needed to face what was waiting for him back at home. Everything, from an empty shell of a house, to his friends who he had run off on, everything. He owed it to himself, and he owed it to Merlin.

He unlocked the door at around midnight, Gwaine falling through as it fell open, his arms flailing wildly.  
“Bloody hell, Arthur! Thanks for locking me out my own room! What on Earth was that for?!”  
Arthur didn’t respond, he just turned back into the room, pulling off his shirt as he did so. “I’m going to bed if that’s okay, Gwaine?”  
“Er… Yeah I guess… are you alright?”  
“I’m fine. We’re going home tomorrow, right?”  
“Yeah, I think so… wait, we?”  
“I’m coming with you, Gwaine. It’s time for me to return home. And I think I need some sleep before I deal with it, yeah?”  
“Sounds… good. You sure you’re ready?”  
“I have to be” and he gestured vaguely in the direction of the letter “There’s nothing more I can do, nothing more planned and nothing more to see”  
“Ah… well… look, I know stuff that you don’t and just… please don’t give up”  
“Are you planning on telling me more are you just gonna stay mister illusive?”  
“I swore on my life not to tell you, and I value my existence right now thanks”  
“Right…” Arthur said. He couldn’t be bothered to push the subject, Gwaine was as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be (he and Morgana were becoming too alike, it was creepy) and he was just so tired. The prospect of heading back to normality and starting again was draining. He knew how hard the process was going to be but he knew he had to do it, the world doesn’t stop rotating just because you’re not watching, blink and you’ll miss the seasons fly. 

The problem was he couldn’t actually sleep. He needed to but he tossed and turned, never getting comfortable enough to slip out of the realms of consciousness. He was too hot, too cold, his back hurt, his legs ached – or was he just making excuses as to reasons he couldn’t fall asleep? Falling asleep would make tomorrow come sooner, would make the horrid reality of life come faster back to him that it should have done. He tried, he really did. Counting sheep, listening to Gwaine’s snoring, but nothing really worked. When he did fall asleep, it was filmed with nightmares. He could see Merlin’s face, a ghostly image of him fading away, and then shouting at him, he could see anger and hurt and betrayal then just the never ending black cavern of emptiness where Merlin should have been and he awoke screaming.    
A confused voice came from the other side of the room “You okay, Arthur?” but Arthur was shaking too much to reply. His thoughts were running at hundreds of miles an hour through his mind and he couldn’t concentrate on anything. The bedside light came on, a soft yellowy glow settling on the room “Arthur?” the voice came again and Arthur still couldn’t place it. He knew the voice, he knew it very well and it shouldn’t be this difficult but he just couldn’t remember. An arm came round his shoulders and a concerned face gazed at him “Arthur, it’s me, Gwaine… is everything alright?” and then everything fell back into place again. The nightmare slipped away, the tight grip it had had on him loosened and he began to see everything clearly again. His sobs came in noisy gasps he couldn’t control, and it was a while before he could find his voice and reply  
“I… I don’t… I don’t know…” and Gwaine just held him tighter then, exactly the same way Morgana would have done if she were there. Gwaine and Morgana had always been there, he could see that now too. No matter what he did, they were there as his supporting arms now to hold him together. It was shameful, he knew, the little appreciation he had given them in the time since Merlin had gone and it only made him sob more still.  
Neither of them looked at the time. It wasn’t important. All that mattered was that they were always going to have each other no matter what happened. Things would change, of course they would, but Arthur knew now more than ever before that if he ever stuffed up or needed somewhere to go then he would always have Morgana and Gwaine. He would never forget them again.  
“It was…” he stuttered “A nightmare. Merlin was… he kept drifting further and further away, then he was screaming and I couldn’t bear it… I don’t remember…”  
Gwaine was silent for a long moment, his breath quiet and steady in the night. Eventually he said “It’s not going to be the same again, Arthur. You’re heading home, yeah, but you’re heading home alone this time. If… if things ever get too much or the house is just too big right now, you can come and stay with Morgana and I. It might not be a peaceful stay, I mean if Morgana is still as full on when the kids come as she is now plus all the baby noise then I don’t really want to think about it, but you are always welcome. Always” his arms unwrapped from round Arthur’s still shaking body, gripping his shoulders tightly “You can do this, Arthur. You’re stronger than you feel and if Merlin believed you were ready for this then you’re ready for this” Arthur nodded slowly, still hiccoughing every now and then as his sobs subsided “Just sleep, Arthur. We’ll deal with it in the morning” and he climbed of Arthur’s bed, watching to make sure Arthur was settled and okay again before he went back to his bed. _It’s going to be a tough week_ he thought to himself as he slipped under the covers _Arthur, Morgana, never knowing when the new arrivals will make their first appearance. I think I have my hands full._ And he too slipped into a sleep less peaceful than he had been in before. 

The morning came. It was raining, dark and miserable. The sun was hiding from view, all eyes fruitlessly searching for their source of light before it became obvious it didn’t want to be found. Arthur awoke slowly, coming into to consciousness with a sigh. He felt off, something wasn’t right. Gwaine was sat up on his bed, head in his hands and staring at the floor.  
“Are… is everything okay, Gwaine?” he asked quietly  
“Huh?” Gwaine replied, looking up.  He looked so tired. There were dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there the night before but he was smiling, so everything must be alright “I think I should be asking you that. You alright after last night?”  
And then it all came flooding back, a tsunami of memories and thoughts that shouldn’t even be in his head but they were and it hurt so much to think of them. “Oh my god” he gasped “I’m so sorry… I didn’t…”  
“It’s alright, Arthur. I think I needed the reality check anyway” and he grinned “I gotta get used to getting up in the middle of the night with two little ones on the way, I just didn’t think I would need to quite this soon” he slapped his thighs and lifted himself up from the bed “I did mean it though, mate, everything I said last night is true. Our house is your house. Now, do you want breakfast?”  
“Er… I… yeah sure, I’ll just…” he gestured to the bathroom “Take a quick shower” and he darted out of the bed and into the bathroom.  
Slamming the door shut behind him, Arthur broke down in tears again. How had he been so stupid? Letting himself be broken like that? It was a fucking nightmare, not even anything real and he had cried over it! In front of Gwaine! For fucks sake, he needed to pull himself together or something was going to go horribly wrong.

It was weird, he wasn’t going to deny it. Booking a ticket in the airport that would take him back to England, back home. It was now England that was a foreign world to him, all the places he had been becoming more like home to him. It wasn’t like coming back from a holiday either. People would treat him differently, he possibly wouldn’t have some of the friends he thought he had, he no longer had his job, and there was no Merlin. But he tried not to think of it. Loading his bag onto the conveyer belt, he waited whilst the lady behind the desk stuck the funny stickers on it (he had never really understood what they were for, despite Merlin telling him over and over again). She was polite enough, the lady behind the desk, although she did seem to be lacking – in Arthur’s not so highly regarded opinion – a little bit of enthusiasm. He couldn’t complain though, so he didn’t – he wouldn’t exactly be beaming from ear to ear if he had to deal with annoying customers all day every day.

They were all agitated through the entirety of the flight. It seems Tristan and Elyan had got to the end of their tether with one another, both of them snapping more than hungry crocodiles who hadn’t been fed for a week. Gwaine too was also restless. His knee kept jerking in an exceptionally annoying fashion which Arthur only commented on once but it still persisted. In the end he just ended up asking  
“Do you need the toilet or are you just being on purposefully annoying?”  
“You’re just being grouchy” came the mumbled reply “I just want to get home, alright? I hate being away from Morgana like this, especially at the moment when anything could happen at any time”  
Arthur just nodded. He knew the feeling well. In the first few days after Merlin’s diagnosis Arthur had barely left his bedside. It was the sense of the unknown that had shaken him; the fear that if he stopped watching for just a minute then something would happen, and Merlin would be gone. He didn’t push the subject any further, grouchy Gwaine was not a person to mess with.  
Everything went as expected. The flight attendants were the same as they always were - overly cheerful and most of them wearing so much fake tan they looked like orange; the food was the same as always (shit); and there was a baby near the back of the plane crying the whole way home. This time, Arthur didn’t try and help to struggling mother as he had done during his visit. He had his reputation to think about at this point, and he knew he was going to be dealing with a lot of babies in the near future. It also made things simpler just to relax and forget about everything. He had no means of entertainment – Gwaine refused to let him buy another TOPGEAR magazine to read because he might want to chat with him (like that’s likely!). So Arthur was left staring out the window, watching mile after mile pass by; a sea of clouds bobbing along beneath him. 

They touched down in England at 11:35am. It was raining; typical late October weather but Arthur had forgotten what England was like. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a thin jumper that had been easy to carry around and he was petty fucking cold. Gwaine laughed at him – the first laugh of the whole journey and they were laughing at _him_ , how fantastic – when he realised how stupid Arthur had been. Arthur honestly hadn’t noticed that it was already late October, and that late October in British terms equalled freezing your balls off because the weather hates everyone. Thankfully they were getting straight into a cab, Morgana had made sure there was one specifically organised (she didn’t really have anything better to do either, despite trying to plan their wedding. By this point, having twins was really starting to become tiresome and hard on her feet so she stayed sat down as much as possible).

The last leg of the journey was made in silence apart from the “Thanks, mate that really was one hell of a stag do!”’s that were made as Tristan and Elyan got dropped off outside their houses.  
When they were both gone, Gwaine said quietly “Will you be okay going home? Or do you want to come to ours for a bit while I make sure Morgana is alright then I will come back with you?”  
Arthur gulped. He didn’t want to go home alone, but he didn’t want to rely on Gwaine anymore, at least not any more than he had done over the last few months. “No…” he replied uneasily “I mean… I’ll be fine going home, honestly” but who was he kidding? He was trying to convince himself that everything would be okay, this wasn’t even about Gwaine anymore. He was scared; scared of what he would find when he pushed open the door to a house that was once full of everything he had ever loved. He gave the cab driver his address and the vehicle fell silent once more. Arthur could feel Gwaine’s gaze on him, boring holes into the back of his neck where he was trying to figure out what Arthur was really thinking, but Arthur just ignored it, hoping as always that it would just go away if he didn’t think about it.

He was dropped off outside his house ten minutes later. Gwaine gave him a nod and a simple “It will be okay, Arthur. And you know where we are if you need us” and with that, the door slammed shut and the taxi drove away, Arthur was left standing on the grey pavement.  
The street seemed darker than it had been before, and it was certainly more unfamiliar. The ground he was standing on was rugged and uneven, cracks had appeared since he had been away and it was in desperate need of repair. His next door neighbours house was up for sale which was a shame, he liked those neighbours more than the rest of them (okay, so that was only because _they_ hadn’t complained about his and Merlin’s shameless sex noises – it wasn’t his fault that him and Merlin were just both very vocal people). Everything just looked drearier. To his surpise though, the front garden wasn’t actually too overgrown – though he expected that had something to do with Morgana and Gwaine; they had been doing far more behind the scenes than he had noticed.  
It would be so easy to turn away and pretend like nothing had happened. To put on a suit and tie, head off to work and end up in the office where he should work. Yet people would worry, whisper behind their hands that he wasn’t coping and something was wrong. He couldn’t face that shame and humiliation, not again, not after the funeral. This time he would just have to face life again, but with a softer edge to him. Show them that he was hurting inside but he would be okay and he didn’t need mothering… not much mothering anyway.  
He opened the front gate. It creaked in desperate need of oiling. Come to think of it there were a lot of things that Arthur would need now that he had never used himself before and he had no idea where in the house they were. Maybe Morgana would have some idea, unless their house was another one of Merlin’s crackpot organisation systems that could only make sense to him. It was going to be odd, adjusting to widowed life… in fact, that concept was weird in itself. The image of a widow, to Arthur at least, was an old grey haired woman wearing all black and crying all the time; not someone like Arthur.  
 He sighed, taking the final steps forward to the door. The key was hard to turn in the lock, a sign of not much use over the last year.  
The door swung open just as it hit him. It had been a year. One year ago, in this very week, they had found out about the cancer. It hit him like a bombshell, his heart shattering and he gagged. Oh how the year had changed. The pain had become a natural part of his being and slowly some of the memories were beginning to fade.

For a while he barely noticed where he was, standing with his mouth open in the still open door way. But then his senses began to sink in once more. The house still smelled the same, still looked the same; yet it was colder, the walls all a paler shade as if all the colour had been draining from them. All the curtains were closed, and he assumed that wasn’t helping so he opened them. It made things brighter but not better, the rooms were still dull and boring. The wretched green sofa still sat mocking him, and all of Merlin’s possessions were scattered round everywhere. The photos were still on the walls and on the fireplace, their happy faces smiling at him as if nothing in the world could stop them being happy. He wanted to stop, he knew he needed to stop but he just couldn’t. He wondered through the house, his hands skimming over anything and everything.  
He wanted to keep walking, never stopping and never leaving this limbo. Then a scrap of paper caught his eye in their room. It was discarded page of a battered notebook. A letter scribed with a frail hand. Arthur sat heavily on Merlin’s side of the bed and began to read.  

_Wherever you are now, my sweetheart, I am with you. I will never truly leave you; I wouldn’t do that to you. I live on in you, Arthur. I live in your heart and in your mind, and that knowledge is enough to let me rest in peace. Remember that wherever you are, or whatever you are doing, I will guide you. Look up at the stars if you need me and I’ll be there to support you if that’s what you need._

_But what I want you to do, Arthur is to not shut out those around you. I have asked them to look after you for me, and I know they will. They’ve always been there for us when we need them and that was one final wish I asked of them._

_I want to live, Arthur. More than anything. Sweetheart, there is so much I want to say to you and I’m going to say it… but you’re never going to see it. I have so much life left to live, so many things I want to do, so many things I planned to do. But life is a cruel demon and it’s taking all those opportunities away, a cruel vengeance for something I don’t even know about; but one can’t help their destiny._

_I’m making this list. Another list, because lists are easy. This one’s titled ‘things I should have said before I died’_

  1. _I’m sorry we have to end this way. I’m sorry I have to leave you. I want to grow old with you, Arthur. I want to see you worry over getting small grey hairs; I want to watch the laughter lines appear around your eyes and know that I am the one who put them there; I want to love you and hold you when you’re sad, I want to brush away your tears and kiss away your worries._
  2. _You’re worth so much, Arthur. Don’t let your father pull you down. He’s a selfish bastard who doesn’t know what he has in you. Please don’t forget how much you are worth_
  3. _Thank you. Thank you for being an amazing person, my best friend, my one and only. I never deserved anyone as good as you._



_And one more thing_

4. _I love you_

_Keep living, keep dreaming, keep being you._

_Bye, Arthur. Goodbye my love._

And once more the tears were falling. This letter was just a scrap of paper. This couldn’t be it, could it? It couldn’t be the last letter. And it hurt. It was everything Merlin had already said but condensed into one easy letter. He would treasure it. It would go with him everywhere. But then it seemed like this had been written before the rest of the letters. He couldn’t piece the puzzle together, not just yet.  
But it worked. It kicked him out of the lost mood he had been in before and forced him into action. He shoved all of his clothes from his trip into the washing machine, found a safe place to keep all the letters he had, changed all the bed clothes and began tidying things.

He started downstairs, downstairs was easy. It was a joint space, so the majority of the things had meaning to both of them and not just to Merlin. There were the occasional bits and pieces that made his heart stutter, or even make him cry but it wasn’t much. A whole week was spent sleeping on the sofa – still not able to sleep in the bed he had once shared with dear Merlin. And it worked. He felt relaxed and happy, isolated from everyone as he sorted out his life, sorted out his home.

It was a Monday morning when he jumped out of his skin to find his mobile screeching his ringtone at him. In his haste to answer it he fell off the sofa, hitting his head as he did so and answering with a disgruntled “Hello”  
“Arthur!” the panicked cry came from the other end “Morgana is in labour what the hell do I do!?”  
Arthur sat bolt upright, narrowly avoiding the table again. “You’re on your way to hospital, right!?”  
“We’re there already! They’re shouting about c-sections and Gana is telling me to phone you to get your fat arse down here now”  
“Gwaine, calm! I am on my way” and shoving on a jacket he had left over the banister he ran out of the house – still fully dressed from where he had fallen asleep the night before. Gwaine had hung up already and Arthur decided it would be faster to run than to wait for a cab.

He reached the hospital in just over 10 minutes, bursting into the maternity ward with a panicked “My sister is in here, where can I find her!?”  
The nurse on duty didn’t seem perturbed “Name?”  
“Morgana Pendragon”  
“Are you allowed to be in there?”  
“Wha…” he stuttered before another voice floated down the corridor  
“Arthur!” it was Gwaine “They’re just taking Morgana for the c-section, something about getting the twins out ASAP” he shrugged his shoulders “I wasn’t really listening, too worried about Morgana” Arthur could tell he was scared, none of his sentences were finished properly  and he seemed oddly out of breath “You wait here, I’ll come get you when it’s all over, yeah?” And he turned and left before Arthur could reply.  
“Well… that’s settled then” the nurse said “Maybe if you just sit over there” she pointed at a big blue squishy chair that was plonked in the corner “I’ll get you some tea” and she trundled off into the staff room.  
Lowering himself into the chair, Arthur let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. Morgana would be okay, he knew it… A scream came from somewhere further in the ward… Okay, 60% chance she would be okay. 

He had to wait a good two hours before anything happened. A set of double doors flew open and Morgana was pushed through into her ward, Gwaine walking beside her.  
“Gwaine!” he called out. Gwaine stopped in his tracks and beamed at Arthur “How did it go?”  
“Fucking marvellously!” he cried, pulling Arthur into a massive hug “Two non-identical twins, one boy and one girl!”  
They both began to cry, tears of happiness for the first time in over a year. “That’s great news, Gwaine! I’m so pleased for you!”  
“OI!” a shout came from inside the room “Don’t I get a hug too!?”  
And Arthur ran in and hugged her as gently as he could “Well done, Gana, well done”  
“I’m a mum…” she whispered. Arthur held onto her even tighter, she sounded so scared  
“And you’re going to be amazing” was all he could reply  
“We were thinking of names too” Gwaine said gleefully “We thought…”  
“And don’t take this to heart, Arthur, yeah? It just…”  
“Felt weird” Gwaine finished “We thought Merlin would be… odd. It’s too soon”  
“But then we remembered you telling us about some of the people you met on your travels”  
“And I loved the name Elaina”  
“So we picked that as the girls name”  
“And Gana loved Percival”  
“So we now have Percival and Elaina, our children”  
And they both grinned at him. He stood for a moment, gaping, trying to catch up with all that had happened. Then he split into a grin to rival theirs and he squealed, making both Morgana and Gwaine wince at the pitch of the sound “That is so awesome!”  
“You don’t mind?” Morgana asked quietly  
He sighed “You’re right, it would have been weird. But Percival and Elaina… I love it”  
A nurse pottered in and in a stern voice said “Alright you two, give her some rest. Mr Orkney you can come with me to get the twins if you wish and we will bring them down to be with mum, they’re both doing brilliantly so we can move them out here”  
Arthur looked puzzled “Yeah it turns out she was a bit more pregnant than we let on when we were in France. We didn’t want to worry you and she was desperate for the trip” Gwaine said quietly, following the nurse “I’ll meet you down here in a bit, yeah?”

And so the babies were brought down. Morgana breastfed for the first time – Arthur was gladly not a witness to that event – then there were cuddles and photos being taken all around. Arthur’s mind wondered at various points what it would be like to have Merlin at his side right now but he found that actually, he wasn’t saddened by any of it, merely finding it nice to think and to dream of how the world could have been turning. He could see so much more clearly now. The twins were hope, new life in a world that had been consumed by death. They were bundles of joy who just wanted love and care, and he knew he would give it to them.  
“Will you be their godfather, Arthur?” Morgana asked quietly just before he left for the night  
“Do you even need to ask?” he smiled back, kissing her forehead “I’ll let father know tonight and he might be in in the morning. I’ll be back as soon as I am allowed” And he left for the night, his heart singing.

Morgana spent three days in hospital, then was discharged with the twins who were both amazing. He went to visit them every day for as long as possible. He’d cleared out the entire house apart from the bedroom, the door of which had been kept firmly shut since the first day he arrived.  
One day on his visit, two weeks after they had returned home from the hospital Morgana said to him “So how are these tasks going then, Arthur?” she could tell he had been avoiding them, he always did when it was things he didn’t like to think about “And don’t think about lying. I may have baby brains but I know you far too well for those tricks”  
Arthur smiled, Morgana certainly did have baby brains recently. She had settled into her new position very well, Percival and Elaina were simply amazing and so was she. “I’ve nearly finished. I’ve given the kitchen a new lick of paint, I didn’t like the previous colour anyway, and I have bought a new sofa to replace the green one”  
“I’m impressed, Arthur” she grinned “I am sensing a but though”  
“Er…” was all he could reply for a moment. Biting his lip nervously he said “I haven’t… er… been into our bedroom since the day I came home” the last bit came out in a stream of words that he was hoping were intangible. Morgana, of course, heard anyway  
“You haven’t… Oh Arthur” she cooed softly (partly to soothe Arthur and partly as to not wake Elaina who had finally fallen asleep.  
“I just… I can’t do it” he said simply “That’s… it’s one step too far right now”  
“I can come over” she said “We’ll do it together” and there was such a determined look in her eye that Arthur didn’t even bother to argue “Come on, help me pack up the bags. These two will sleep most of the time and when they don’t… well it’ll be a good distraction”  
“You mean… we’re doing this now!?”  
“Yes, Arthur, we are. Sooner rather than later, dear brother, sooner rather than later” and she bundled Elaina and Percival into their carriers and packed up all the necessities. “I don’t really want to take them in the car” she said “I hope you don’t mind carrying one of them and all the bags” she grinned at him and he just sighed, defeated without a battle. 

The walk was… awkward. Arthur was too busy thinking about what he was about to do to think about anything else so they kept having to stop and switch carriers because one of the two babies would start crying and Arthur would just stare at them blanking as if they were a completely new concept. Morgana was letting out infuriated huffs every couple of paces but knew she had to stick it out for Arthur’s sake. She was the one who ended up opening the door, Arthur’s hands had begun to shake and he could barely hold the key let alone shove it in the lock and force it open.

“You know what, Arthur?” Morgana said as she walked in, ignoring the dazed and confused look that was on his face “You have done a really nice job here” Arthur blushed but didn’t reply so she just continued “I’m serious! It’s the same place but it just isn’t! You could start a business with talents like these!”  
He turned an even deeper shade of scarlet and replied “Er… thanks. Coffee? Tea?”  
“None for me, ta, I think we should just get on, don’t you?”  
Arthur shrugged, not wanting to annoy her. “Where shall we put Elaina and Percival?”  
“Is your spare room empty?”  
“One of them is, yeah” he said “The one opposite our room should be big enough”  
“Fantastic!” she beamed “Let’s get them settled then we will begin”  
“Can you… can you get them settled? There’s some quick stuff I need to do first”  
Morgana just nodded as she headed upstairs with Elaina, running back down a moment later for Percival.  
Arthur found some cardboard boxes from under the stairs and some bin liners, as well as hunting down the key to the loft (and the light switch for it) before heading upstairs himself. She was just closing the door behind her as he arrived and she gave him a small smile  
“You ready?”  
He gulped, “No”  
“It’ll be okay, Arthur. You need to do this”  
His voice wouldn’t come again, so he just nodded. She gestured for him to enter the room, the door still standing as an obvious threat that he didn’t want to face. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and pushed the door open. 

He was hit with the familiar smell of home; a smell that had been lost since the renovations had begun downstairs. There was a familiar musty scent in the air, and a faint tang of Merlin’s old aftershave; the sense memory making his eyes well up with tears that he couldn’t let fall yet. Dust particles swirled up at the disturbance to their peaceful slumber and danced in the sunlight.  
The room was the same. Nothing had changed at all.  
The soft blue bed sheet Merlin had picked out was still on the bed, warm and inviting. The wardrobe door was slightly ajar from where he hadn’t closed it many months ago and the windows really needed a clean. Merlin’s pyjamas were still folded and sat on his bedside table, waiting for an owner who would never come home. Everything was as it should be. There were piles of books in one corner by the bookshelf where there hadn’t been enough space to keep all of the once Merlin wanted, the top one still had its bookmark in it.  
Arthur gulped. This was not right. He had stepped back in time. The memories came flooding back. Loving Merlin in this room, Merlin being there as a warm presence in his arms, murmuring words to each other in the dead of night, meaningless words and promises that were supposed to last a lifetime. Everything was supposed to work. The room had been their haven, their secret place where they could retreat to when the world turned dark and all they had left was one another. And now the world had shattered again, and the room was still left standing. But it was cold and lacked _something_ that Arthur couldn’t place for a moment until he realised that that something was _Merlin_. Always Merlin.  
Morgana was stood behind him and she place a hand on his shoulder “Go on, Arthur” she encouraged quietly “You’ve done the first step, the next ones only get easier”  
He stepped forward slowly, circling the room once, twice, three times; each time touching everything, fabrics and clothes and books and shelves and everything that should have felt more familiar than it did. By the time he returned to Morgana he was crying, silent tears of sorrow for the life they were supposed to have built in this room, for the life he would now longer never know because the world was cruel. The room was full of a looming shadow and the home of a fallen angel.  
“I’m ready” he said simply and Morgana began to move. She opened the windows, allowing fresh air to flow back through the room and all at once it was alive again. The curtains rustled in the slight breeze and Arthur breathed properly for the first time since he had opened the door.  
“Where do you want to start?” she said quietly, unsure of how he would react.  
Arthur looked around. He knew where everything in the room was, what would hurt and what wouldn’t as much. “Start simple” he replied “Clothes”  
She nodded and started to open all the wardrobe doors “There you go” she told him “This bit’s up to you, Arthur. This is your leap to take”  
So Arthur stepped forward, his heart pounding. Taking a handful of Merlin’s clothes he walked back over to the bed and laid them on there. The fabric was soft and loved, all of Merlin’s old faded t-shirts now forgotten in amongst the trousers and smart wear. He raised one of them to his face – a grey Iron Man t-shirt that he had loved for years since the first film had come out (“Robert Downy Junior is fit, Arthur and you are not ruining this for me” Merlin had said, poking his tongue at Arthur when they had first bought the shirt) – it still smelt of him and the silly flowery washing powder he used to buy because it reminded him of his mum. He held it close for a moment, covering the tears that fell despite his best efforts to hide them. He placed that shirt onto the pillow but piled the rest of them onto the other side – he didn’t want to let it go, it didn’t feel right at all.  
He was thankful that Morgana didn’t say anything as he began to empty out the wardrobe in complete silence. He knew that if he tried to speak then the tears would fall again and then they wouldn’t stop. So he plodded methodically on, keeping one thing from each little section: Merlin’s favourite jeans, the frilly knickers he bought after a dare, just little things that still made him smile – because the rest just made him sad.  
When he was done he smiled weakly at Morgana who moved forwards, picked up all the items on clothing which were now unwanted and quietly left the room to sort them out elsewhere. She could tell that the next bit needed to be done alone, it was now that Arthur was getting into Merlin’s things, things that shouldn’t be his to touch yet but they were. And she knew that that sort of thing needed space and time to deal with. Arthur would do it, she was sure of that, but he would do it at his own speed regardless of whether she pressured him or not so she might as well leave him alone.  
When he was alone, Arthur sat down cross-legged on the floor like him and Merlin had used to. Occasionally, when they had a day free, they would sit opposite one another on the floor next to their bed and just talk. They would look through the boxes of memories that were underneath the bed and create new ones while they sat there. Mobile phones were turned off and it was their time, time for nothing and no one but each other no matter how urgent the situation was. And so he pulled out the boxes and began to sort through them, this time all on his own.  
He threw away anything that had literally been kept as a joke; sweet wrappers, old cinema tickets, the tips of shoelaces etc. And then came the hard things. He flicked through photos, post-it notes, he re-watched the videos that had been left in the box – recordings of their trip to Paris and suddenly Merlin was alive again. He was laughing one moment and then crying the next, sometimes unable to decide what to do for half an hour or more before moving on. He made the decision to donate most of Merlin’s books, apart from the ones he specifically remembered Merlin telling him to read at about 2 in the morning when he had finished it and was just sitting there in tears going “Arthur why did they do that! It hurt so much! You should read it” and then pouting at him until he caved in. Most of the things were kept though; he didn’t want to let them go. One day he would get photo albums for all the pictures and sort them out properly, but until then they would just be kept safe and sound in the boxes.

Four hours later, he wandered downstairs to find Morgana cradling Elaina and rocking Percival in his buggy with her foot. He smiled softly, she was already making a great mum and things could only get better.  
“Hey” she whispered “Everything okay?”  
“I think so” he replied quietly. “That’s everything done now, I don’t know…” he trailed off, he didn’t even know what he didn’t know.  
“There is one more letter” Morgana supplied “But you can’t have it yet”  
“What!?” Arthur cried as softly as he could manage “Morgana I need it! You know I do!”  
“No you don’t. What you need, is to get your own life back on track and I will give it to you when the time comes”  
“And how am I supposed to… do it without him?” he whispered brokenly  
“Oh… Arthur” she sighed “We will figure something out. Go on, grab a notebook and pen and we will get dates sorted and plans done”  
And so they made plans. The date for Morgana’s wedding was set in stone now, and they sorted out his work. Arthur knew he would be okay. Merlin had got him home, and got him ready to face the world again. Now it was just time to wait. How long he would have to wait, he had no idea, but he hoped it wasn’t going to be long.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are nearing the end of Arthur's journey! I hope you enjoyed the penultimate chapter xx


	10. The Final Letter/Epilogue

 

 

~*~ _3 months later_ ~*~

“This is my official letter of resignation, father” Arthur said with a soft smile toying at his lips. It had been just over a year since Merlin had died. The world still felt empty, still felt wrong, but Arthur was coming to terms with it. And now he was finally breaking away from his father for good. When he had returned from his journey and finished his tasks, Arthur had gone back to work for his father. It had been a tough decision because he just didn’t have the drive anymore for such a gruelling work schedule. But he had made a plan. He was going to start his own business, a home renovation business which allowed him to get his hands dirty and still produce his own income. He had seen from his travels that actually DIY was something he was good at and he enjoyed it. So he thought he might as well make a living out of it.  
“You’re really going to do this… on the day of Morgana’s wedding?”  
Arthur beamed at Uther “Yep! Carpe diem, father, carpe diem! If Morgana can get her happily ever after today, I sure as hell can too!” and he walked away to help Gwaine sort out his tie. 

“I cannot believe I am wearing a bow tie” Gwaine moaned moments later “Of all the things Morgana could have picked for me she picked a bow tie!”  
“Bow ties are cool” he quoted back at him without even a second thought.  
Gwaine snorted “You have been watching too much Doctor Who, I thought you had too much work to do to think about anything other than the work!?”  
“Well… a couple of Doctor Who reruns never hurt anyone” he laughed “Now come on, Gwaine, we have to leave in under 5 minutes and you still need to go to the toilet and put those stupid flowers in your button hole”  
“Aw fuck” was all he got in reply as Gwaine dashed out into the bathroom. He chuckled to himself, checking his pocket for the two ring boxes, then checked his neck for the necklace he now never took off. Gwaine and Morgana had got things engraved into their rings now too. Morgana had seen Arthur’s and thought it was a beautiful idea, and had shyly (shyly! It was a miracle, Morgana _could_ actually do shy!) asked if her and Gwaine could do something similar. Arthur had smiled and, pulling her first into a hug, telling her that of course she could, she didn’t even have to ask. 

They set off in the car 8 and a half minutes later – Arthur was trying his best to keep to time, but Gwaine was making it impossible (and there had been the incident with Arthur’s buttonhole but they were trying not to think about it). To put it nicely, Gwaine was shitting himself. He was trying to cover it but Arthur could just tell. The shaking hands, the sweating brow, the incessant chatter – actually that was just normal but still – and everything else just made Arthur nervous. He could still picture this moment on his wedding day. He had been the same, so he couldn’t begrudge Gwaine for any of it. As the car pulled into the churchyard, Arthur was sure he heard a yelp come from Gwaine’s side of the car and he had to supress a laugh.

The church was packed out. Morgana had really gone for it with the guest list. He was purposely avoiding great aunty Angela and cousin Tim (because he actually hadn’t invited them to _his_ wedding and now it would just be awkward to explain everything to them) and he ending up milling around behind crowds of people he didn’t know.  
The vicar called everyone to their seats half an hour later. Morgana was running late, but that was to be expected. No doubt she was looking after the twins as well as trying to sort herself out and he didn’t even want to think about the numerous arguments that must have been taking place throughout the course of the morning.

And then the band started playing – Morgana opting out of the traditional melody and finding something slightly more jazzy that fitted her trendy style perfectly. The church doors swung open, and there stood Morgana on Uther’s arm. Gwaine’s mouth fell open in awe. She looked beautiful. The dress was floor length and gorgeously tight fitting (it had been altered 8 times in the last three weeks, one would hope it was the perfect size) pure white beautiful thing that screamed elegance in every language under the sun. She took everyone’s breath away. Even despite the stresses of organising a wedding whilst breastfeeding two very lively babies, she was positively glowing. 

The wedding went as smoothly as it could have done, and Arthur did try his best not to cry as their personalised vows were read out to one another. There were laughs and tears as they became one, and as the vicar said “I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride” the whole congregation were on their feet and cheering because it was wonderful. They were a match made in heaven and everyone could see it. Arthur could feel Merlin smiling down on them all and it made him feel like the happiest man in the world. It made him long for Merlin in a little way. Seeing partners in the audience whispering away about their weddings; he wasn’t going to deny it, he felt jealous. They still had their loved ones to hold as close as they wanted and he didn’t. But he knew he had had his time with Merlin, they had had the ups and downs the vicar had described and it really had been till death do us part. It certainly helped him though that Morgana looked so damn happy. She deserved it, she deserved her own fairytale ending and her prince charming (he could still remember all the little dreams she had told him about when they were small, it was so cute that it had all finally come true).

Then before he knew it, the confetti had been thrown and they were heading to the reception in a magnificent old country manor house on the outskirts of Surrey. Arthur had questioned her choice – the venue was bloody ages away – but when they got there he realised that it was absolutely perfect. 

They had had the wedding service as early as possible in order to get the twins home in time for a decent bed time (he had barely noticed them during the service, Uther had taken charge of Elena - they could all see Uther was going to dote over her so much - and Gwaine’s mother had Perceval, and they had both been perfectly quiet – typical of Morgana to produce two such wonderful offspring). So it was only midday, the reception was to be more of a lunch than a dining experience. Not all of the guests had been invited to the reception – thank God – which meant Arthur could mill around and actually talk to people without the excruciating pain of hiding from any of his relatives.

As they all gathered their seats, Morgana and Gwaine arrived in one of Uther’s Mercedes’, opting to save money here and buy nicer things elsewhere.  
“Do you really think he is ready?” Gwaine said to her softly, playing with a loose curl of hair that hung by her ear  
“I don’t know, but it’s what Merlin wanted, so I’m doing it anyway”  
“You know I love you, right? All that determination is just the most delightful thing”  
“I love you too, Gwaine. Now, let’s get this show on the road”

They walked into the reception hall with a flourish. Arthur was glad that Morgana had decided not to try and find two dresses. She was still smiling and Gwaine looked like he was going to cry with happiness at any moment. The whole room were on their feet and cheering once more, Arthur taking pride of place on Morgana’s left hand side. As she came to sit down she pulled him into a massive hug, whispering into his ear “I have a surprise for you” but turned away before he could work out what on Earth she meant.

Food, Arthur decided, was the best thing (besides Merlin) to ever have existed. He ate so much he knew he wouldn’t be able to move in the morning. Unfortunately for him, Morgana and Gwaine decided now was a good time to get everyone outside to release the two doves they had bought for one another out into the open and into freedom. The latch on their cage was lifted and they soared off into the sky, dancing around each other with their white bodies shining in the sunlight, and they flew into the distance until they were merely specks. Everyone was crying, it was just so beautiful.

One of the final formal parts of the day were the speeches. Arthur was pretty nervous, Morgana had asked him to make a speech instead of Uther, mumbling something about “still haven’t completely forgiven him” and Arthur had slaved over it until his head hurt and the rubbish bin was filled with scraps of paper. 

Gwaine stood up first and the whole room went silent.  
“I am going to keep this reasonably short” he said with a grin “I think you can all tell by the looks on our faces how absolutely amazing this day had been for the both of us! And I can honestly say this is one of the best moments of my life…”  
“Only one!” Morgana squawked  
“Well there was that football match… and the stag…” but he trailed off with the dirty look she sent his way and the whole room burst out laughing “Seems like we have missed the honeymoon period then!” he added cheekily “Anyway, I just want to say what an honour it is to be married to this amazing woman. She is my rock, my partner in crime, my everything and I truly believe I am the luckiest man alive for her to have accepted my hand in marriage” Morgana was now in tears again, and Arthur swore he heard a sniffle from Uther but he chose not to look his way and embarrass the poor man “Thank you to all of you who have come today, you have made the day absolutely amazing, so thank you!” and he sat back down with a flourish, planting a kiss on Morgana’s lips on the way.

It was then Arthur’s turn.  
“Er… hi!” he said rather nervously “In case you don’t know me, which could happen, I am Arthur and I am the lovely Morgana’s brother. I think I would like to apologise now for my babbling, I tend to get like this when I am slightly nervous (I really don’t want to let my sister down alright!)” he added defensively when a couple of the women laughed at him and they soon softened at his words “Now… I love my sister more than anything in the world, she has certainly been there whenever I crumbled and I hope to hell that I have been there for her too” Morgana smiled up at him, nodding slightly and suddenly he realised he didn’t need to have a script prepared, he just needed to be himself “I’m not going to lie, I have been through hell in this past year and I don’t even know if I would be here today if it weren’t for this wonderful woman. And there are worse men she could me marrying” and he winked at Gwaine “No I can’t say that, together they have supported me the whole way through the horrors of this year and I hope one day I can repay them. There is no body more deserving of this happiness than them. My Merlin was everything to me. I would be such a different person if he hadn’t been in my life and I don’t even care that these two are still keeping something from me, they deserve the chance to have the same kind of happiness that I did. So… congratulations! To Mr and Mrs Orkney!” and he raised his glass, a toast to the two people whom he loved the most in his whole life, then sat back down again.

And then something happened he hadn’t been expecting. Morgana stood up.  
“I know that the bride doesn’t usually do one of these speech-y things but I actually have some very important things to say. Firstly, look at me I’m married!” and a cheer went up from some of her closest friends who were sat on the closest table “And I am married to the most wonderful man in the world, making me the luckiest woman in the world. BUT there is someone in this room for who it seems their luck has run out” she turned to look at Arthur “My dear brother, you have had the toughest twelve months I have ever seen someone put through yet you have pulled through like the fighter you always have been. Now, as you are probably all aware by now” she turned back to the audience “Arthur’s husband died last year” a murmur went through the crowd and Arthur winced at the few gasps he heard, they obviously hadn’t been told about his heartbreak (or it was great aunty Angela realising she had never been to the wedding, but either way it was not a good thing) “And then mad, wonderful, genius Merlin, sent my brother on a trip around the world. He left 10 letters in my care to give to my brother when I felt the time was right under the strict instruction to keep one of them – the very last one. Which I now have here” out of nowhere she pulled one more envelope, identical to the ones he had been left and Arthur nearly leapt out of his seat to grab it from her but she turned out of his reach “And I was told to read it ‘after Gwaine does the thing’ and that was an actual quote. I, of course, had no idea what he was on about until Gwaine proposed three days later and suddenly everything clicked into place. He then asked me to read this letter out at ‘the thing’ which is here and now, the wedding. Arthur, I know you may just want it to be your thing, but Merlin insisted that although it was predominatnly about the love you shared, he is aiming to make lovers everywhere – at least, in this room – realise what they have. So here goes (then we can start the dancing)” so taking a sip of water she began:

_My Darling Arthur,_

_I’ll tell you now that this letter is to be full of clichés, but you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way :D because you, my love, are worth a thousand of them._

_Anyway, I bet you’re wondering why I am hijacking Morgana’s wedding and how I even know about the wedding in the first place. Well, (if anyone actually cares) when you’re fighting a losing battle where the enemy is death and the warriors are drugs that don’t work, people tell you things they wouldn’t otherwise say and I seem to have found they listen more than they usually do too. And I am afraid to say that this even applied to our charming rogue, Gwaine Orkney. Gwaine came to visit me just yesterday and spewed his deepest desires of marrying Morgana so I responded as any normal(ish) man would with an encouraging “Get your head out of your arse, you tosser, and propose to her!” (I’m really hoping that got a laugh and if not, Gwaine, I send my most… heartfelt apologies at your subsequent embarrassment).  
And overnight I have been thinking about what I would say in my best man’s speech – sorry, Arthur, Gwaine picked me first because he thought you would be picked for maid of honour ;) so I wrote that down here just because I can’t fully justify hijacking a wedding just to declare my undying (interesting choice of words) love for you. So here it is:_

 

 

> _Gwaine, you are one hell of a human being. I’m not gonna lie. You’ve always been there for Arthur and I, even when we thought we didn’t need you (and trust me, we did). You are incredibly brave, incredibly loyal and probably the best drinker I have ever met. You’re specifically incredibly brave to be taking on the Pendragon family because I am warning you now; they don’t take kindly to intrusions. Actually I don’t see why I am warning you now, I mean you just married her so it’s too late to turn back, she’s got hold of you tight and I don’t think she is ever letting go :P But I know that you will have the best life, because eventually they will all let you into their hearts and love you to the best they can. You truly are a lucky fellow, Gwaine. You have your whole life ahead of you with these people and please – I beg of you – don’t mess it up, for you’ll never find another family quite like them. You’ve been like a brother to me, Gwaine, and it’s weird thinking that you’re a married man now. I mean, when we first met, you were married to the bar and permanently attached to a pint or two, with a girl on each arm singing away to whatever was playing. Yet here you are. Settling down with a very wonderful lady, and one day soon I’m sure you’ll be having kids and completing the family line up.  
>  And Morgana, dearest Morgana. Thank you. Thank you for being the most loyal friend to both me and Arthur, you have become the sister I never had. You are beautiful and kind and really quite wonderful, just like your brother is. You really do deserve this chance to be happy, and I believe you will have the best of times with Gwaine. I have forgiven you for the numerous times you tortured me on those shopping trips before you fully understood that gay didn’t mean fashionista, and when you decided my hair needed product in it (though I will never fully understand why quite that much product was needed! You used three bottles before you decided it was a losing cause!). I would also like to thank you for helping me do this for Arthur. He needed it though he will never admit it. But then he wouldn’t have done it at all if you hadn’t sorted out all these letters for me and had them delivered exactly when needed. You’ve made the ending of my life seem less frightening because there’ll be someone looking after my Arthur for me.  
>  So guys, congrats on the whole… you know, marriage thing and I hope it all goes well for you. Good luck. Live long and prosper and all that shit ;) Much love, Merlin_

_Right, now that is over with I will get back to the main point I was trying to make here, which was my love for Arthur.  
( Actually, I have to quickly thank Gwaine again though for getting me writing this shit down, if he hadn’t have done what he did I would never had thought of sending Arthur on that trip. So, thanks again mate!) This particular piece of beautiful writing (even if I do say so myself) is the very first letter I have actually written. I’m not entirely done with the details of the trip yet, so I’m hoping I’ll be alive long enough to finish the letters off – and I am truly sorry if they get a bit pathetic at the end. The doctors aren’t quite sure how much I will fade and how quickly it will happen so I am just praying that I cling on long enough to give you this one final gift. _

_You and I (I’m calling Arthur ‘you’ again now because this is supposed to be my final farewell to him/you not a massive thing about the wedding, sorry Morgana) always had a thing with love quotes, it was always who could give the best one or who could find a new one. So here I am making my last list in this set of letters, and it’s a list of love quotes meant only for you:_

  1. _“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage” – Lao Tzu  
This quote has meant the world to me for the last few weeks. I never really understood it before, I used to think that love was just love and it didn’t mean much else. But as you have sat here beside me, holding back the tears when you think I can see you, I have seen strength greater than any man I have ever known before. You’ve been trying so hard to hold yourself together despite the anger and the fear I can see threatening to boil over you. And then you have given me such great strength. Loving you… I am prepared to die. I have loved to live and lived to love and that’s good. I’ve had my chance, and it’s been wonderful. I’m no longer scared of dying, you’ve given me the courage to see beyond what will be and look into what has been._
  2. _“Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is.” – Jim Morrison  
Before I met you, Arthur, I don’t think I had ever been true to myself. I’d tried to be someone else so I wouldn’t be ridiculed and I had never embraced the person I actually was inside. You’ve been the rock in my life, my support and my foundations. Without you standing by me I don’t know what would have become of me. I would have died here as I am now, but it is most likely I would have died alone and afraid of what was coming without a hand to hold and a light to guide me. Thank you, Arthur, thank you for being the truest friend and husband I could ever have wished for. _
  3. _“Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you.' Mature love says 'I need you because I love you.'” – Erich Fromm  
This is so true it almost hurts. Although in the start you showed me the way and I needed you to get me out of the dark times, I never loved you just because I needed you. I need you because my heart isn’t whole without you. You’re the only one who has ever held my heart in your hands and treated it well. I love you because you are a part of me, I wouldn’t be complete if you weren’t here; I’d just be an empty shell wandering through the wastelands trying to find meaning amid the rotten debris that life had been throwing my way. _
  4. _“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” – Julie Garland  
I think this one speaks for itself. You were never just a person to me, never just a face in the crowd or a mere colleague. You got me down to the core and struck chords in my heart I didn’t even know existed. Whenever we were together it was like I was complete, that my soul and yours were as one and you weren’t just loving me for my physical form, but for me as a person. I don’t think anyone had ever done that before ~~and they’ll never do it again but that’s not the point~~._
  5. _“Can miles truly separate you from friends... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?” – Richard Bach  
Miles will never separate our hearts. I may be buried deep in the ground by the time you read this, or scattered into a million tiny ashes (I haven’t decided which to do yet, I really should get round to it) but I will always be with you in your soul. Death is just another step on from life, there is no bridge to cross, it’s just a bungee jump from one to the other but this time there is no bouncing back. One step, that’s how far apart we are, my love. It’s not far, remember that. Even in the darkest mornings or the longest nights, I am still within your reach and still within your grasp. Just keep remembering me, Arthur, and I will keep on being here forever. _
  6. _“Love knows not distance; it hath no continent; its eyes are for the stars” – Gilbert Parker  
This one ties into the last. I guess I am just trying to say that my love for you will never end. There will be stormy seas and raging winds, there’ll be monsters who try to pull you away but I will always be there for you. I’ll become simply another star in the sky, one more angel in heaven. I shall be scattered in the distant galaxies until one day man stops loving the light and begins to worship the glorious never ending world out there and then I’ll be a God. All that will be left of me is the love I can give and I will give it. It shall dance with the birds and float on the winds, following you wherever you go just because it can never let go. _
  7. _"Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.” – Henry Van Dyke_  
 _I suppose this is ironic. I have loved for so long that eternity has run out and it’s ending now. I always thought… always believed in Henry Van Dyke and this stupid quote. He truly made me believe that because I was loving you and because you were loving me, then time would never stop and we would forever be together. It’s so unfair that our time, our eternity was cut short because I was too weak to even realise what was happening and too absorbed in myself and in the wonderful life I was living to realise that something was so seriously wrong. Oh God, if I had only known sooner we may still be together. Instead you are at Morgana’s wedding and I’m no longer breathing – the unfairness of it all is huge and I can’t bear it much more._  
 _Sorry about that. This bit of the letter is being continued on about an hour after I wrote that top bit. I promise not to get angry anymore, these will be happy quotes, nothing more nothing less._
  8. _“Love is being stupid together” – Paul Valery  
And this is our life, summed up very briefly yet very perfectly. Never was a truer word spoken than that which says that we were stupid together. You made me laugh so many times; the pranks you pulled on Morgana, the stunts we pulled with Gwaine, the board games we created in moments of extreme boredom, out time in Paris… those moments made my life. You gave me everything I ever dreamed of and so much more than I believed possible. Together we were God’s court jesters, the two wild lovers who could dance and mess around for him. There was never a dull moment, never a complete loss of happiness because you had that little pot of star dust that you would sprinkle everywhere until nothing could be dark anymore, for everything was catching the light and glistening all the time. _
  9. _“I believe in the compelling power of love. I do not understand it. I believe it to be the most fragrant blossom of all this thorny existence” - Theodore Dreiser  
Love is the most powerful thing on this planet. I would not have survived to the age I have without loving you, Arthur. You have pulled me out of the most horrific circumstances that I don’t wish upon anybody. You gave me the strength and courage to journey on no matter how tough the road became and it was you, Arthur, who made my life this wonderful. On this Earth, I have been shown that life is not always kind, that it is indeed just a thorny hedgerow, but that if you look hard enough you will find the first bud of spring bursting through to show you what will one day be coming. You were that bud in spring, the flower that bloomed in the battlefield before any others could take your spot. You were my flower to love and to cherish and to make sure you were always okay. And you did the same thing to me in return. _
  10. _And my final one for you here: “Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing” – William Shakespeare (and yes, maybe admittedly I did like Shakespeare just as much as you did, those dates to the Globe were never just all for you).  
And it seems I have at last found the root of all our heartache in Shakespeare’s words once more. For it is not my life that has had any significance. I could have lived forever, meeting new people and still achieving nothing. In death we see what we have become. We don’t recognise the glory of our existence until those final moments grip hold of us and pull us under. You would have carried on loving me the same way for years on end, never fully realising the full power and extent of love and all its majesty. You would never have seen how much our paths are intertwined and how much we needed one another. In the end, life breaks our hearts. That’s all it’s for. I believe that my death has taught you more about life and yourself than I had done during my whole lifetime. It is easy to see these things in hindsight but much harder to see them when you’re just trying to live. _



_Through all that I hope I have shown you just how much you mean to me. Forever and always, Arthur. We promised each other “Till death do us part” and here we are at the final curtain call. I hope that my death has been more than just a lone melody played on a broken violin, and that I have taught you more than I ever did in life. I swear by myself, Arthur. I did not swear by the fickle moon or by any other object that could change. I swear by myself because my love for you is never changing and never ending._

_I think it’s time for a toast, don’t you? Part of my best man’s speech ;)_

_Here’s to anyone who has ever loved someone with all their heart, here’s to anyone who wants to get with someone and not had the courage but knows now that their love can be found. Raise your glasses for love! For the love that is here in this very building right now! To the love that radiates from Morgana and Gwaine, the love from me to Arthur in this letter, and to the love of all those around you here! You’ve made it this far, keep loving and the whole world will be right for ever more. Cheers!_

_You have always been the best of me, Arthur.  
All my love, now and always,_

_Merlin x_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that is the end of a very long journey. I will be going through this and re-editing bits and pieces but for now, this is it! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it <3 <3  
> With love, Sophie


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